The Sun-kissed Man II

Calloused hands

Hard and black

Grime and dirt caked in

Dusty jeans

A light blue singlet

Tobacco fills a rusty tin

 

Sitting in

A rocking chair

On a faded porch

Watching as

The red sun sets

A glaring heaven torch

 

His body’s tired

His bones ache

His muscles stiff and sore

Yet he will rise

Fresh and ready

With the coming of the dawn

 

Sitting peaceful

In the twilight

Thinking of the days he roamed

No regrets

The Sun-kissed Man

In his exile all alone

 

©Aarron Mondello

16/5/2018

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