Some evenings a poet will turn Down a ride and walk Home from the banquet Where he was honored By members of a boat club Still feeling the roughness Of their hands in his hand As he walks in his pocket The medallion they gave him Already forgivably forgotten
Jean Follain
Jean Follain
Jean Follain
Some evenings a poet will turn Down a ride and walk Home from the banquet Where he was honored By members of a boat club Still feeling the roughness Of their hands in his hand As he walks in his pocket The medallion they gave him Already forgivably forgotten