For Nicholas
There is a soul named Nicholas
He's not like you and I
His path has been an uphill climb
But his spirit it does fly.
He wanders though our neighborhood
And no one ever cares
They never see him as they should
A golden stalk of purest wheat
And we are but the tares.
If only they would stop and see,
And read his poetry,
They would meet a soul so sweet
A spirit grand and free.
poem by Lynne FincherSpringarden
Added by Poetry Lover
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