Rubber Ducky Poetry Hour

[mythy]

I had covered some miles that night in December
I remembered the warmth of the fires glowing embers'
then up through the dark an old man appeared
limping quite badly, with eyes full of tears,
in a flowing white robe, and a long straggly beard,
I called out a greeting, he could not have heard.
Then in the distance a clock struck the hour
it's luminous face clear in the tower,
and I turned to the place where I'd seen the old man,
but I was too late the old year had gone.