The
Old Man stands on the steps
With
his black sun-glass on his face
The
morning sun shining its bright rays
The
wind whirring of cool breezes
He
looks far ahead
On
the steps he can imagine
The
power holds on his every step
“It's
me I am the mover”
He
smile in his head
As
he walks down the steps
The
morning sun still hangs there
Watching
his every move
The
Old Man listens
To
every sound of whisper
The
game he is playing
It
seems to get traction or is it?
He
doesn't know
If
reporters ask him
He
will say
“I
have no idea at all”
The
chauffeur opens the car door
As
the Old Man steps into his car
The
driver transports him to his office
In
the lift he realizes he has to keep his promise
Else
it will be dust in the wind
His
name and reputation will be stained
A
man who forgets to keep his promise
A
gentleman always keeps his undertaking
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