He sat there looking on,
The one million mile stare,
As still as if he was drawn
Or maybe just in prayer.

Across the entire world
His mind would race.
His thoughts would unfurl
As his mind would quickly pace.

How do you catch a prawn?
Or how would be get home?
The last chopper from Saigon,
The great civilisation, Rome.

All the world was his oyster.
But why not anymore?
For while his mind did roister,
Time had crept out the door.

At this time everyday
He was able to be free.
On the outside he was grey
While inside he could flee.