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Rusty Broadspear

The man with the beard was a big man

Long hair to match the beard.

Seen and done things, travelled well.

Reads a mind – now that is weird.


Been Zak’s Mother for many a year,

Love him still, ‘cos he’s my child.

Deep down good but been a bad’un,

Now a giant, gentle and mild.


Greed doesn’t just kill the victim

It slays the perpetrator.

Before too late, Zak found out

No longer a taker, a donator.


Giving birth to this gift from God

Was a normal course of events.

But you know, life goes to and fro,

A tormenting memory fragments.


From talking age he amazed me

Saying what I thought ‘fore I said it. 

Just a laugh and a joke, you know,

I’m his Mother – give him credit.

Country and Western fan now you know,

Credit to his old Dad and me.

Now all he does is read troubled minds,

Puts ‘em right, for good, for free.


Switches off when he wants to.

Never married, understandable why.

Takes his trade to the poor unfortunates,

I’ll love my boy till the day I die.  

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