On the intersection
of destinies and roads
Sits a man with his kettle
Cups are his weapon
Tool of digging wisdom
Every stir in his tea
Goes deeper than he perceived
Souls get elixir and they
Of wins, losses and battle
They lost in their shining armor.

Far from the ways of this world
He sits and watches it go by
And then come around
Like everyday
Yet peculiar in its way

There comes a time
His constant vigil goes away
As he walks back
To look for a home for the night
The road took care of him
He served it with his tea
Appreciating graciously
His mother had told him one night
That he will grow up to be a knight.