Passing Thoughts Poem by Peter Rogerson

An old man sat

On the branch of a tree

Surveying the ground beneath

He found it rather odd to see

The rabbits playing so merrily

On the edge of Hampstead Heath.


He thought awhile as he slowly chewed

The end of his rosewood pipe

And peered through the foliage dense and green

At the rabbits so gay - and amazing scene

Which moved the poor old man to tears

The closest to nature for scores of years.


As the sun paled away in the west

And the rabbit family departed to rest

'Til the morning, the old man descended

And quietly walked away to die

The teardrops falling from his eye

The rabbits gone and his life ended.