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November 23, 2014
At the country property
auction sale,
I met a man who
looked quite pale.
His fortune he had
all but lost;
many heirlooms sold,
much to his cost.
At peanut prices,
to a bargain hunter:
An eagle eyed
impulsive punter,
without compassion
for those in need:
Each deal nailed down,
at breakneck speed.
All memorabilia
from childhood days,
bound for hands of a stranger,
then lost on selling bays.
Until the last item
of the day,
when good news about
to come his way.
His castle bought
by this same oil tycoon,
with no plans to live there
or to evict him soon.
He was told he could stay
completely rent free,
until the time came,
when dead, he be.
He was promised that everything
would remain the same,
including the family crest
bearing his grandfathers name.
The tycoon’s only stipulation;
the exclusive use of the left wing,
for family and friends
he may occasionally bring.
And the promise that the castle,
which was sadly in decline,
would be brought back to life,
retaining it’s ‘resident’ blood line.
As no better person was there,
to oversee it’s restoration,
and no better greeter to the public
than this man of reputation.
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