A Vagabond's Tale

Traveling at night beneath stars that gossip

Withered leaves on grounds collective

Flask to hip tied tight with trick rope

The Vagabond trots along with optimistic hope

Hat on head

Mind on bed

Heart red

He gathers the world as he moves

He takes in sights, first bites of new food and new fragrances galore

People fascinate him and yet he finds he is happy being an observer

because people always let you down

Being an outsider is like comfort food

His mind has whispers probing him to be part of the carnival

But he's never been to fond of the act

And then there are the clowns that wear creepy colors

Too loud for his taste

The future as he lies on open meadows seems naturally abundant

Not because of gypsy promise...

But he trusts in the magic of the world

And the power of will, which like his flask is tied...but this to his heart

And as he walks over the hill,

Alone and vary he looks down at the city's skyline

Almost as if he misses it..

Being a part of something is always enticing

But perhaps being one with self is balance arriving

This journey is not to belong

But a yearning to be strong

This path is not paved with good intentions,

But rather of potential inventions

One thing about the vagabond you must know,

He belongs to no one and yet the whole world.........................

is his.