Heavy is the sun
that runs
orange to red,
over the journeyman’s
aching head.

Blank face and bold
wearing a cloak
that is a century too old
as he wanders alone.

The moon would be nice
to cool this day light
with a little night life.

Letting him gaze
beyond the heated blaze
and toward more calm
evening fires.

He looks toward
the horizon for
the hope of
the one he loves.

A wish to wrap
his arms around
the family he has found
and lost more than once
moves his fatigued
laden form on.

But the sun swallows
and disintegrates
all dreams for better days,
till frustrated
and dehydrated
he dies a ***** death.