A passing friend is what they say to me.
I walk the miles with canvas shoes and sack,
But should they want a friend to come for tea,
An offer of a bed to rest my back?
The night is long, I toss and turn til morn.
A little food, for I would soon depart,
I ponder with a smile upon my face,
And I am feeling torn
But thank them with an ache across my heart,
For once again I’ll wander place to place.
©Alima J Aug 2017