That man in the desert
With his wrinkled hands
And his wandering gaze
Sits aloof in a corner
With his fleet of ships
Every dawn of winters
He resurfaces
In the broad daylight
And gets lost as night takes over
Hardly speaks, barely listens
Faint footprint mark he leaves on the sand
And talks slowly in his husky voice
His life's experiences has turned into stories
Which he tells in slow whispers
I often wonder what his life would have been like
His childhood, youth and life after that
His family, friends
Does he have any?
His struggles and pain
His joys and laughter
And everything in between
Have you met him ?
The man in the desert...... See more
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