Winter Traveling Man
It was November he came— and went away
like a sudden zephyr in the sky.
I was just another station along his pathway,
he, another pass-her-by —
but he moved me at the turnstile.
I welcomed him gladly
and for a moment,
I was madly enamored and rapt.
He fed me a pass
and of course, I took it.
My eyes glinted,
his legs shook
but anything else from him
was just hinted—
this, I never mistook.
I reminisce
of those minuscule moments we had—
but he I do not miss.
No point to pine
for the perennial nomad.
For him, I have not shed a tear
since I knew I was a station.
I could not have gone places with him.
To think otherwise would be a silly whim
This would have caused him consternation…
Frankly of this, he would not hear!
Commentary of Poem:
If I had to choose one favorite poem of mine, it would be this one. It isn’t the most elaborate, emotional, nor thought-provoking piece I’ve done. However, it is just special to me- though my feelings over the real-life traveling man were wildly exaggerated. He was not a significant person to me but I made him so here. This piece has a nice rhythm to it and it is one I enjoy retracing.
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