He asked me for shelter, I gave it him gladly.
He'd walked a long distance since dawn's early light.
With miles still to travel; he viewed his map sadly.
I offered a meal and a bed for the night.
He was rightly quite wary, but even more weary;
He looked at the clouds and the darkening sky.
Then he nodded agreement, though his eyes held a query;
But he'd not see the chance of a bed pass him by.
He lowered his pack and guitar from his shoulders;
He gazed at the fire that lighted the hearth.
I heated some soup, and I gave him a brandy.
I said it was fine if he wanted a bath.
He sat in the comfort of my humble cottage;
He spoke of his parents and family back home.
He told me his life for a small mess of potage;
Then back on the road in the morning, alone.