Long and distant pathways, with many textured skies,
numerous disapointments, he blinks with weary eyes.
Distant shores lie out of reach, within the midst of time,
his thoughts remain unfocused, a chantless nursey-rhyme.
Many years with tattered months, lie solemnly at his feet,
his journey's almost over, a lifetime now complete.
Regrets sweep in abundance, no time to put things right,
Old Journeyman's eyes are closing, his spirit up in flight.
annie frame copyright 2006.