see the grey old man in the photograph —A grandfather I had never known— see his cane and withered hands and wonder what must it have been like to live his life of literary abandon.
The picture belies the paths of the man, showing no signs of wars or lost loves, this portrait of the insect librarian only illuminates the black and white and not the colours of his life.
From boy to man a student of life, A soldier; poet; lover, he lived the journey, becoming where his interests led. A father; philosopher; book-man of kings, he carried his name to where he died.
This man I never knew with strange connections through poetry, like me, yet unlike, stares back from the picture bemused. You can join Unsolved Mysteries and post your own mysteries or interesting stories for the world to read and respond to Click hereScroll all the way down to read replies.Show all stories by Author: 33286 ( Click here )
Halloween is Right around the corner.. .
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