Lost Treasure

written April 2010

Long hours, one helluva ride,
but beard, beer at his side.
not complex, not perplexed,
Just goes through the day,
with out ill effects.

Battered hands, shallow eyes,
but beard, beer at his side.
He does not watch the news
He does not sing the blues
12 cans, so cool so fresh.

The world views what he hides,
but beard, beer at his side.
He owes no man, He owns no land.
Tall with buttons down the length,
Years of joy but lay underneath.

Although lonely they cry,
but beard, beer at his side.
He reads, but nothing true,
boots with scars, worth a view.
A treasure that is you.