The Typewriter

He came down to this town
in one winter with a typewriter..
He was roped in an old shawl.
People said he rented a hut
in the middle of the field
next to the Hills...
His eyes were hiding..
Like he had seen many unseen things
he walked with his hands counting
something...
he rarely walked out of his hut..
he was always a stranger
he was always a crazy chap
as they said he stayed awake whole night
with a strange noise
louder than the hustling
Of Spring leaves
Or fallen leaves of Autumn..
Gradually he became thin
Eventually his lip learn to smile
His uncomb hair became wilder
His look was nothing
better than the dying Oak Tree...
He seemed tired
Like he swam an Ocean,,,
The said He sounded a Sin to the town
for the children He was just a Clown


....to be continued....