Here’s a companion poem to the one I posted yesterday:
Wanderer, wanderer where do you go,
all alone on the road when the wild winds blow?
Where did you come from and why did you leave,
who are the loved ones you left home to grieve?
Hunched in your cloak with your pack on your back,
bent almost double by the weather’s attack,
you pass by my hovel. I stare out at you.
When will I ever bid loved ones adieu?
Held to a life of hard labor and toil,
grubbing for greens as I turn over soil,
I dream of far shores and adventures galore,
yet never will I set a foot out my door.