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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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