On chest dangled a golden locket
that I did pocket,
to not give offence
to debt burdened farmhand,
and jumped the high fence
dividing us to land
on muddy soil, slime made coil,
soil soiled leg and garment;
a fish and he both on boil,
no escape or comfort I ferment
to hopeful eyes that beg
as deny money,
held fence to balance failing leg
giver of all my honey,
I hid family locket
as he hid tears,
red hollows in eye socket,
to comfort I was all ears,
no words came
but kids shrivelled, garbed dirty,
playing innocent game,
but I had own troubles since thirty,
helpless witness to their grief,
for had once chased fame,
a deluded spell not brief,
ending defeated and tame,
I dependent on my family,
and his family dependent on him,
what use to him world’s homily,
yet who am I to talk that lives on a whim,
darkness as setting sun vanished,
but frolicking kids our distress banished.
Solitary Wanderer 