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A Man Named Charley

Way up on the hillside there once lived a man named Charley

He seemed quite nice but sometimes he was gnarly

He lived alone in a stone blockhouse

He once told us he had a pet mouse

The weeds and brush somewhat hid his abode

The entire time he lived there the grass never mowed

Always wondering if he’d had any kids

Never asked him as it seemed questions were forbid

We’d often bring him food from our homes

When we did his voice would change tones

Always grateful for what we’d bring

Never said thank you but he’d sing

Out his guitar would come and he’d strum

We couldn’t help it, along we’d hum

One winters day we went to visit him and he was gone

He’d left us a letter to tell us he’d passed on

We’ll always remember the man named Charley

Sometimes he was quite gnarly

©Susan Zutautas 2019

 

This was written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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9 Comments Post a comment
  1. Charley reminds me of a fellow from the small town where I lived for many years, except no music. He took in stray dogs and my own dog liked to visit her boyfriend there. We used to take the man food and he was so grateful. I don’t remember his name. We called him the dog man.

    Liked by 1 person

    May 10, 2019
  2. I like this; it makes an interesting story and tightly fits the prompt-photo. Nice one, Susan

    Liked by 1 person

    May 10, 2019
  3. Great story Susan, I love the fact that he left a letter to tell he had passed on.

    Liked by 1 person

    May 9, 2019
  4. You know it’s my thing to be picky Charlie/Charley. I enjoyed visiting Charley. Couldn’t think of the songs he sang, perhaps Mr Bojangles?

    Liked by 1 person

    May 9, 2019

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