The Old Man by The River Thames

On a clear day in London;
The world was out to catch the winter sun.
On the banks of the river Thames stood an old man.
Entertaining the crowd, by playing on the Mouth-Organ.

He stooped a little with the weight of his age.
His grey hair, fluffy and bright, in the morning sun.
He entertained with a melody probably known by heart.
Continually he kept playing on the Mouth-Organ.

His wrinkles spoke of the years gone by.
He looked smart, in a shirt with a matching blue tie.
His weary old legs tapped to the tune of a song.
And his feeble lungs, kept blowing at the Mouth-Organ.

The wind carried the tune down the Thames edge.
Disturbing the sea-gulls, who screamed, as if in rage.
Amongst other artists, he was desperate to grab attention.
By conjuring a melody supreme, on his Mouth-Organ.

A penny to earn, was probably his dream.
His numerous unfulfilled dreams were his songs’ theme.
A thumbs up sign whenever he received a donation.
And then, again, it was back to playing the Mouth-Organ.

I stood by the Thames, watching him for long.
Enjoying the melody, my feet tapping off and on.
In the jamboree at Thames, an artist-just another one!
The old man worked away at his Mouth-Organ.

Memories of Chevening, London, Nov '07

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