A WANDERER

THE WANDERER

By Marshall Collins

He walked along the Woodland path,

a Rucksack on his back.

His wrinkled face, his beard so grey

and strength he seemed to lack.

Through Trees and Shrubs he made his way

to reach green fields beyond.

When suddenly to his surprise,

he came across a pond.

The water clear, with Ducks and Swans

he gazed and smiled with joy.

It brought back all his memories

of when he was a boy.

He raised his head towards the sky,

the sun was shining bright,

Oh! Mum and Dad I beg you please

help me with my plight.

I'm old and tired with nothing left,

please let me join you now.

And then he heard a voice within,

not now, my son not now.

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He left the pond and walked ahead,

with sadness in his heart,

but now he knew deep down inside,

it was not time to part.

He raised his head, breathed in the air,

he felt refreshed and smiled,

of course there's hope for folk like me,

who wander in the wild.

Darkness came, the Sun had set,

in the shadow of the Moon,

he sat beneath an old Oak Tree,

humming his favourite tune.

He closed his eyes, and was soon asleep,

his worries were far gone.

Tomorrow is another day,

and he will venture on.