Twas Thor’s Day, sunny September day,
Cone Man thanked his God in verse.
Thankful too for a weekly payday,
Filling his meagre purse.
Over three years since exile,
From the Great Hall of Wisdom.
Driven all the while,
Suffering dearth, enjoying freedom.
Thirty-nine months of ceaseless quest,
Selling, writing, gardening, collecting cans.
What to do? What path was best?
Making plans, ever more plans.
“The man that does not work should not eat,”[1]
Counselled Saint Paul the sage.
Cone Man cone-curred, enduring heat,
Labouring beside men half his age.
Ironically the standard device,
Ubiquitous in his new profession.
Although using every device,
Cones were their most prevalent possession.
© Craig Turney
Brilliant!
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Cone Man Returns :)
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