A Vagabond's Road
A lonesome vagabond
Whistled away through his life-
Through autumn, summer and the cruel cold.
He live a life, so kind, so benign,
Myriad pathways he could've chosen.
Pathways adorned with petals of roses,
But a bed of roses would've given him no thrill
Through summer fever and winter chills.
Today he lies in moth-devoured drapes,
At the edge of the very road that grazed the soles of his slippers.
But where is the bliss in living safe
When firewalking lures the valorous?