The wanderer

An August autumn day,
Beneath the multihued trees,
Cooled by the fine spray,
From water amongst the breeze,
The perfect spot to rest and linger,
Thought our weary traveler.

Clad in the simplest of clothing,
Carrying only the lightest of belongings,
He stood by the stream and started to dream,
He closed his eyes and listened carefully,
To the tidings and the secrets,
The wind held dearly.

Then it formed out of the sky,
A face of angelic beauty,
Adorned with eyes of the bluest sapphires;
With that twinkle in her eye,
With that loving special smile,
He knew he’d found the one,
He sought for all this while.

As soon it was there it was gone,
The image of the person he adores,
Once again he felt alone,
So he steeled himself to endure,
The growing pain deep inside,
A reminder of what he desire,
With drops of tears on his cheek,
He told himself its time to leave.

So he took his bag and his things,
And set out for the road ahead,
What would this journey bring,
The one he seeks or the one he dreads
Only time can tell his fate.

An August autumn day,
Above the multihued trees,
The masterpiece of the sky’s colour display,
Spread out as far as the eye can see,
Overlaying the stream and the woods,
Where a man once stood,
Where he is going no ones sure,
Except he is off to find the one he loves.