There is a man who walks from place to place
A wanderer without a home, a name
They say he wears a mask upon his face
Despite the fact that his is quite the same.
Oblivious to where was or is
He never changes pace, not loses stride
The only thing he brings and claims as his-
A three-leg’d dog that walks along his side.
His clothes are ragged, torn and brushed with dust
But stranger still, his hands are always clean
It’s said he sleeps beneath the earth’s green crust
And sings a lilting song of all he’s seen.
So take me wand’ring with you, dreamer-man
And teach me ev’ry precious song you can.
Author notes
I had to write 2 sonnets for a class. This is one of them.
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