Poetry

Winter Traveling Man

 

Here’s to kicking off the first official day of winter….

-hear this-

 

Winter Traveling Man

It was November he came and went away

like a sudden zephyr in the sky.

I was just another station along his pathway,

he, another pass-her-by.

But he moved me

at the turnstile.

I welcomed him gladly

and for a moment,

I was madly

enamored and rapt.

He fed me a pass-

and of course I took it.

My eyes glinted,

his legs shook,

but anything else from him was just hinted-

this, I never mistook.

I reminisce

of those minuscule moments we had

but he I do not miss.

No point to pine for the perennial nomad

for him I have not shed a tear,

since I knew I was a station.

I could not have gone places with him.

To think otherwise would be a silly whim.

This would have caused him consternation…

Frankly, of this he would not hear!

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