The old man with a golden cane
I dreamt of him,
The old man
With a golden cane.
When I am well-tried
and heedless my ride
and hideous my pain.
I felt his saintly voice,
Saying
he'll call again.
I'll be around,
He spoke.
May be Tomorrow,
When you rise
above delusive sorrow.
When evil, my boy,
You shall defeat.
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| oldmedina | 
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