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.