The Visitor


(Jim Archibald) #1

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.