Only the Moon

About a vagabond.

Only the Moon

 

Millions of stars sparkling in the sky,

A poor man sleeps under them and never questions why?

 

It’s the fire in his belly that keeps him warm at night,

And it’s the thought of being tied down that gives him a fright.

 

His heart runs with horses, which gallop wild and free.

He wants to meet new people, but never told how to be.

 

The bag on his shoulder weighs down heavy,

And he walks until his legs are weary.

 

But the burdens he carries are very light,

And though he had nothing he is happy with all his might.

 

He lies on his back and watches the stars,

In the distance he can hear the cars,

 

He used his bag as a pillow and whistles a tune,

But there’s no one to hear him, only the moon.

 

 

                       

                                      17^th April 2011 ©

Author's Note

Thank you for taking the time to read my poem.