Suddenly he stood before me:
His emaciated figure
Brittle under the weight of his rucksack,
Grimy collar
Caressed by greasy hair,
Adams apple dancing
In his scrawny neck,
Disillusioned eyes
Hiding under a tattered hat,
Wandering soul without any hold.
Obviously in need of the spoken word:
He asked me what time it was.
Suddenly the words were pouring out of him
To me, a complete stranger.
“ I just keep on moving.
Since the death of my mother
Nothing is keeping me at home.
Father and I don`t get along.
I like the freedom of travelling.
It`s not always easy to keep warm
Or brew up a hot cup of tea.
I`m getting to know the land of my birth.
Here today, somewhere else tomorrow.
The rat race is not for me.
Today is my birthday, my twenty-ninth...“
I offered him the bar of chocolate
Which I had bought for my small son.
The `birthday-boy` accepted,
Thanked me
And a smile lifted the shadows from his face.
Off he went on his way,
Laden with the freedom of his wanderings.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Erika Seetzen-Woods.
Published on e-Stories.org on 04/29/2004.
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