As I look down,
I see a man
With ragged hands
And hair wind-blown.
From atop my hill
The man looks sad
And a little drab
While he stands so still.
A man walks nigh
In his suit so black
But he turns his back
As he walks bye.
The shaggy man
Shivers in his sleeves
Sitting under the eaves
Beside an old beer can.
You really painted a very good work picture here. I like the rhythm of it as well.
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