There’s a man at the pier who runs the donkey rides,
Not many people even notice he exists,
Except the children, that is;
They run toward him arms out wide
Like he’s their favourite uncle, or Santa Claus.
But underneath that quiet, hardened shell
There’s a story to be told,
A daughter that he lost, and a wife
He loved so hard before she turned so sickly pale
And faded with the sunset on the beach.
The man who runs the donkey rides
May go unnoticed by the likes of you and I,
But he has a story, long and winding
And just as worthy as our own.
Olivia
What a lesson for us all to learn. To notice those that would usually go unnoticed. The cleaner in our office building, the bathroom attendant at a fancy restaurant, the McDonalds worker. They all matter 😊
Such a lovely post!
patientandkindlove
thank you, and so true….
juliadeniro
Great poem. It’s always interesting to speculate about people’s lives and what stories they have to tell.
Halbarbera
The man with no name
Nobody knew him
He had no fame
Just a nice, decent man
The man with no name!
patientandkindlove
Love this
crispina kemp
Whether the man with the donkeys or any other we tend to overlook as unimportant, they all have a story, all worthy of our listening. But most will never reveal the joys and pains they have lived through to strangers such as me and you
patientandkindlove
I find the hidden stories the most interesting. I love to make up my own versions as I watch people go by.
crispina kemp
Me too. People watch. I’ve done that so many times at Victoria Coach Stn, giving people motives and backstories