Sam

by Michael Keeling

Sometimes he sits and sometimes sits and thinks
the thoughts that make the pie up in the sky,
chin cupped in hands, expression of a sphynx.

To clarify, some people seek their shrinks
but others make their beds where they can lie
and there they sits and sometimes sits and thinks.

And if they’re punished and they’re put in clinks,
they sit in corners trying to reason why,
chin cupped in hands, expression of a sphinx.

The world’s their oyster but to some it stinks;
their luck is bad, the good has passed them by,
and there they sits and sometimes sits and thinks.

You’ve met the sort, they’re often full of drinks,
with sorrows drowned, a glazed look in the eye,
chin cupped in hands, expression of a sphinx.

I know a man, returned from many brinks,
he dreams one day he’ll win the lottery,
sometimes he sits and sometimes sits and thinks
chin cupped in hand, expression of a sphinx.

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