Strange

The strangest man
I’d ever met
is a man
I won’t forget.

He entered my life
one fine day
and departed
in a similar way.

He looked a man,
but I’m not sure.
He rarely shaved:
but was mature.

Sparkling blue eyes,
pale and fair,
slim and tall,
with wavy hair.

We worked together
almost every day,
but he never spoke
of love or play.

He never mentioned
his past life,
a mother or father,
child or wife.

Often I tried
to weigh him up,
but he had drank
from many a cup.

Journeying to work
one misty day,
I saw him lying
by the highway.

With a finger severed,
lying in mud,
deep cuts on his face,
but there was no blood!

Strange!

poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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