A soiled, worn out coat

Hangs on a clean, bent back

Following the wobbly feet

On the dirty path

Leading to the clean grave

Long ago, he had emerged

In this world,

With an upturned face

And a toothless smile

Then they taught him how to walk

Walk on the path, they said

The upturned face smiled

But the paths are dirty, he said

They were scared of one

Who smiled and protested

He ran, without a path

They after him, following the path

Never too far to be unseen

Never too close to be caught

So he smiled and they frowned

The chase has lasted a lifetime

The smile too, now as toothless

The frown is tired, very tired

They have others to chase

Toothless, upturned pink faces

You can't run if not chased

You can smile though, alone

The grave is clean, lying beyond

Far, at the end of the dirty path

A long way for the bent back

The coat is soiled, not dirty

Yet, he leaves it out

As he steps into the clean grave

Lying down, he straightens his back

The smiling face is upturned again.