Poems

The old man

Everyone knows
That very old man
That is standing at the same place
every single day

Everybody knows him,
But no one for real
The only thing they know
Are paintings by him

They see him every day
Walking past by
Everybody sees him
But no one says 'hi'

He's painting everything
All the things he sees
Some things that most people
Didn't know exist

He's painting all the feelings
All the first sight love
He's painting all the magic
That is going on

He's the one that tells
All the best old stories
And the only thing is
That there's none to noticed

Only a young boy
That's usually so shy
Sometimes came to him
And ask him how

How is it possible
To see the peoples hearts
To see the people feelings
To see what's going on

He wants to learn it
He's the future one
The one that will become
A very old man once

But he won't be painting
Like the old man has
He's carrying a notebook
And a pen in his hands

He prefers writing
Using the magic of words
That could tell everything
That the young boy wants

But the old man's time
Is coming to an end
He will get very soon
Into a better place

And one day, he's gone
There is no one there
And that's when the people notice
The end of a paint

There won't be many to miss him
Only the young boy
Who just lost his biggest
Giver of love