The Man who carried a Cane

I looked down the sad

and drowsy city lane.

He saw my gaze approaching,

the man who carried a cane.

It was a snowy evening,

cold, even by the fireside.

A knock on the door,

and there he stood outside,

The man who carried a cane.

“Why, little lady!” he exclaimed,

“Won’t you let me in?

Don’t you remember me?

I’m your father’s kin!”

“Now, wait a moment!” I said,

“May I know your name?”

“Of course, sweet girl!,

My name is Pain.”

Reviews

[Sami Khalil]

Pain on a cane. That is unique and carried within. I enjoyed this story-type poem with a surprise at the end...:)..............

[Devesh]

Thank you for reading, Sami :)

[Sami Khalil]

You are welcome...:)................