Best Poem of C.F. Wilkins

How Frail The Memory
Oh how frail is the memory
Of a forgetful old man,
Who looks for gems of joy
In the veins of his lifespan?

The howling whistle of a train
On a distant, lonely track,
Calls to deeply buried memories
And tries to bring them back.

A red bike, a spotted dog with
A little white pup,
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The Bus Stop In The Shade
He worked a summer job.
This he did to help out.
The family needed more income.
That's what this was about.

As he stood at the bus stop
Feeling lonely, insignificant and small,
He viewed society in confusion
And wondered if he mattered at all.

As the young man boarded the bus,
The . . .
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