Charlie got by for many years and then he died
If that does not say much for
his whole story
well If there was ever interest strong enough
apart from liking beer and fish and chips
to stamp him with some character, to say
What Charlie was I couldn't tell
So Charlie lived his life and yet
On days like this he might have thought
But never chose to show
Before and after fresh spring rain had stirred the earth
To steam with life in yellow light
How truly beautiful life is
Perhaps, perhaps - but I don't know