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Flowers left for Robin Coffee
Some years ago, I wrote a poem inspired by one of Robin's pieces. I realize I'm not the best writer, but I wrote it in honor of my grandpa Jim and Robin. --Wandering ManI wandered alongThrough life's untouched landsBasking in nature's beautyThe Birds, the treesThe Deer, the grassOh how they seem to whisperWere they calling to meI heard a soft voiceDown by a distant streamIt was a song that was strange to meI followed it to seeThere I saw an old Indian manA warrior lost in timeDancing by the waterWas he calling to the rainHis voice echoed in the windHis feathers swayed in the breezeHis feet graced the earthLike the gentle beating of a drumHe stopped"Why are you herePale wandererWhat have you come to see"He turned to me"I am not an Actor on a stage orA Clown in a showI am searching for that which is lost""My Fathers' spirits call to me""Can you not hear the children cryFor my people long agoIn a tongue long forgotten""Can you not hear them"Like quiet riversTears flowed downHis tired face"Some sayI'm wildI sayI'm Free"With an empty heart, I left his landNever more to wanderIn distant stormsI still hear his soft voiceThe thunder of his dancing feetI hear him calling from the rain"Some sayI'm wildI sayI'm free"
- Joshua Hinton
 Added: Jul. 13, 2010

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