The Morning Nomad

 

sat at the back of the bus folded into the cramped space he sat
a mop of thick curly hair brushed the low ceiling
piercing blue eyes regarded the commuters over sharp eagle nose

shaved yet unshaved clean jacket yet dirty boots
a solitary man on a morning sojourn
battered rucksack bulging held together with knots
worn holes date well used companions bag and boots

at home at any location worldwide
his journey unknown to me

our paths parted at the traffic lights
he upon his
mine
the same

 

 

Anne Harrison 23.11.16

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