Stinkeye struts, scratches
parading his brood of hens
his glare piercing, cruel
Can’t look in the glass
afraid to see who stares back,
confirms your judgement
I will never be
what I once was – a shadow
of my former self
If you are rich and
if you can buy anything then
nothing is special
My humble abode;
peaceful retreat from the world
sun, rain; it’s all good
Soon our journey ends;
the present becomes the past,
the future unknown
Foot prints in the sand
brushed away by the calm winds
gone without a trace
Endless adventures
bound treasure waiting for you
get lost in the words
The ride is over
No more travel or meetings
Now just unemployed
She travels alone
content; she is not lonely
Seeks tranquility
