Wandering Wind

Weary and teary eyed, this traveller
pondered upon a stop.
His clothes beaten and
tattered, with spots,
stains and tears.
yet he toiled upon the sand;
feet bare; no band.
A blister a step for each hand in time
And still no rhythm and rhyme.
Only a walk turned sour,
Apollo glared upon a face gone dour,
Beaten and beyond its years,
These eyes tell a story unique
to our traveller's memory;
of grief and loss and a
life tossed away.
With more pain than gain
yet, even as a solitary tear
meanders down the wrinkled wretched face,
A little whisper of wind wraps
a cloak around drooped shoulders.
Time stops in wonder
A moment of Blunder?
nay!
An oasis, tis seem.
Even through eyes doubtful and keen
while laughter curves and lifts his lips
A moment of glee,
All thanks to a tiny wandering wind
that tickles us all and even Apollo sees
Once again this master becomes a friend indeed
to this friend In need.

Vami