OLD MAN OF THE ROAD
I saw an old man walking along the highway,
His face was like tanned leather or burnt clay,
His eyes were the colour of a watery blue
Showing the hardships that he’d been though.
How many nights had he slept on warm heather
Or curled up to keep warm in bitter cold weather?
How often did he drink from a stream or a brook,
I wonder how long since he read a good book?
He carried a bundle on his now bending back,
He said for that day enough food he did lack,
Nearby was a diner and we fed him a meal
And gave him some change, not a great deal.
He set off again with his strength now renewed
With a doggy bag with some extra good food,
He refused a bed for the night, he liked outside
When the weather ‘s warm and need not hide.
The old man of the road sounded educated and wise,
Seemed to have a bright mind yet he did not prize
A home or shelter or things of earthly worth,
But preferred to live in unison with mother earth.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson 8 May 2006