Poem: A Walker (May 1977)

27Jul14

A walker touches summer stars
though sometimes not knowing it.
His happiness is the mood that takes him,
whirls him away from today,
makes him human.
His humanity lies in his walking.

While sleeping, a walker waits.
Moving coolly in the darkness, under the covers,
his heart ponders his steps.

Jumping from friction, facing walls,
A walker worries and cries, wondering why
his journey should strain him so.
Still, on he’ll go. It’s youth that walks,
blind old age found too early
that paces out those miles.

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