Rock Collector
You call him old but I say happy.
Talk to him you’ll find his a jolly chappy.
He always wanted something of his own.
He craved for this deep down in his bones.
Without realising every day when he would walk his dogs.
Or even just out to collect logs.
He’d pick up a rock and through it at the same spot.
His throw was straight he had forgot.
Every day he hit the same place.
Though he was just walking the dogs it was no race.
The rocks started to pile up high.
There was a pile where the ground used to lie.
It got to the point the rocks started falling off.
He realised he thought it was nothing to scoff.
He started a new pile on the other side of the track.
He now has his own thing and tonight he’ll be back.
