His living walked the halls of roads

where branches pointed his direction.


His coats thickness covered a chest

with a heart for home.


Lifting and pushing is the job

of his hands; working the wrong

side of each day.


Breezes tease the edge of his hat,

rubbing his face, forcing hands

into pockets and eyes to squint.





Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s