The Storyteller

Off in a distance
Down a long winding road
An image mysterious seen making the climb
Footwalk to village hidden to most
Yet the storyteller found it, yes scaring most

Few guests ever found the village so veiled
Yet none ever entered like the story teller in swirl
He appeared in a eye blink, attired in strange garb
Full linen robe, made of simple and plain
Both fire and twinkle, had he stored in his eyes

He seemed to be from an age yes of old
Where myths and fables, were shared by the old
Crowd gathered quickly as he strolled though the town
No man dared address him, yet the lasses drew nigh
'Twas the twinkle, just barely alive in his eye

Crowd grew in mystery, growing larger in size
As they offered him cool wine and invite to dine
An ax cut stump, did he take as his stool
A throne somehow fitting, almost touching his hair
Then all became silent, as he began yes, to share.

He spoke of old heroes and cowards alike
He spoke of strong magic, and fireflies of night
He seemed to have stood before time ever breathed
The words that he whispered left all not daring to breath
As he spoke yes of battles bridging time to sea

He spoke with authority, as even the men now drew near
Afraid to insult him, the bard from nowhere
He spoke of kingdoms far and a near
Shaking fist at despotic principalities, with absence of fear
He stood shimmering in sun, till sun disappeared

Timeless somehow stood he now in night
While the stories unfolding full, of love and yes fright
Some began crying, while some walked away
For the words he did herald were strong cutting in sway
For he stood as a sage, from another time and day.

The fireside now, the light that revealed his visage
As his words carried till dawn break, the crowd grew in size
They marveled and wondered bewildered inside
The stories remembered seemed to sleep at his side
The stories continued second day into night

By now the whole village did sit at his feet
His breathing and uttering steeped thick in mystic
The young ladies swooned as he spoke as a prince
The young men startled by what they had seen
For the stranger had shared each one of their dreams

The Bard left the next dawn, as quick as he came
In a wind whistling in remembrance of what they had seen
They marveled concerning his imagination so bold
Encompassing a world, they could not even hold
They whispered all day and into the night

Some said he was a storyteller, no more or no less
Some shouted nay a prophet because of his dress
Some say that he pranced upon times endless day
Whilst others said simply, I know not what to say
Yet the village still stirred throughout the third day

They marveled in unison how his stories seemed so real
Most naturally figuring each story he did steal
All applauded the imagination that spawned such vast breath
But few dared to speculate on his origin at best
Yet none, ever noticed, 'twas his story he did tell.

Rodney Evan Bohen