Beloved Vagabond

Her eyes a window to the world have forgotten the light once blinding.
Empty streets surround me. I am alone.
One with the mist that envelopes the city sleeping
Chimney stacks and smoke black bellowing are my horizons.
Who is this shadow in the night unwinding?

Is it he our beloved vagabond?
Once more upon his journey searching
Hooded and cloaked within the shadow of himself
Guided by the midnight sun?
He calls for understanding as he walks in foreign lands
Never an outsider but always an outcast
He passes the woodsman wandering... he shall kill game for the pot
He passes the songbird singing.... he shall make welcome all that winter forgot.

poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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