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Tuesday, 4 October 2011

A RETIRED MAN WALKS HIS DOG

Through high and savage blades of swaying grass,
a man with razor cuts and scratches wades,
dragged by a dog snapping at nothing alas,
just elated by fresher air, no barricades
of kennel walls and fences to constrain
the wildness in his sinews, blood and bones.
The man with scratches winces from the pain
and cries aloud to curse all he disowns.
Once ambition strained his guts and veins,
family and career combined a slog,
but now he is in summer shorts with stains
of grass and blood, condemned to walk the dog.

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