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Created on: August 01, 2007
The Traveller
His shoes have aged with the dust
of remote places.
He looked at his soles
not just once
to gauge the time
he had distanced.
He was a traveller,
but he had no bag
to warm his back.
All he had were the clothes
his mother had washed
a day before
his hour of leaving.
And, of course,
his shoes.
So when at last
he began
to feel the pebbles
he stepped on,
he knew he had to go
back home.
But his shoes were too worn
down to travel a step further.
Thus, he sat
and wept upon his clothes,
remembering the day
his mother washed them,
and then took a shoe and drank its stench
that he might forget.
-o-
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