*
we all walk
bundled up on
winter days
but the dogs
jump for joy
the old man
will not sit by
his fire he takes
himself out
slowly stretching
his steps next
to the lines
of poplars
he will walk to
the end not
a thought
of surrender
.
© 2013
.
annamosca 
I enjoyed the poem, and the photo too. I zoomed in on the picture—looking for the old man at the end of that tree lined path.
Fantastico!
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Ah! The picture is more recent (2020 days before the Italian Lockdown) than the poem (2013). If you use the search window on my site with the title or key you can see the original pic.
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Thank you. What I meant to say is, the poem is so visual I expected to see the old man at the end of the path.
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Oh, nice! Sorry I misunderstood your feedback… thank you 😊
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Oh, thanks for letting me know David. I zoomed in too. love it
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Oh I like it Anna
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