There was an old man
I used to see every day in a square close to my home
He seemed so frail
Just skin and bone
He had always a book with him
Old and thin
He did not take his eyes away of it
It was as if in those pages 
He could find everything 
That to his world would perfectely fit
The old man
Ignored the movements of the life around him
People, birds, cars, trees
Even the noise of bees
Perhaps he had lived enough all those things
Now he wanted to embrace the words of the book within
 He was the most intriguing man I have ever seen
One day
The old man disappeared
For his life I feared
Someone told me that he had gotten sick and died
Beside his bed in the hospital
They found an old book
"The ship of life I took
Somewhere else I could look"
I missed him every day when I crossed the square
I still could remember his silver hair
Blowing with the wind as a pair
I always wondered him beyond the skies
His memory inside me never dies
In my imagination the old man flies

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