Clop, Shuff-clop
Worn boots worn well
Their journey, mine
This path travelled
Paved against soles

Low brimmed hat
Wraps the mind
The sun beats on it
A hammer wears it thin
Sharp eyes, peer forth

Horizen's low, scant miles
Always just too far, just too close
One step in front of the other
Home is a sort of walk
All the ceilings my stars

Scrapped leathers worn
A mess from tumbles and scars
Hair once short, now unkempt
Held back, with a short throng
Not for for naught, simple necessity

In my mind's eye, the road isn't there
The clothing isn't worn, not thin
No thought for the sun or night
Even the road, so hard,
Nary a moments thought

Thoughts stay focused
Her lips so soft, unlike the journey
Eyes so deep, refreshing pools
The coolest water; the driest day
Dramatic curves warm, coldest winter

A dry hot wind, chafe his leathered face
Any observer, wouldn't notice
Either twitch, a momentary rise
Or flinch, surprise recognized
In fact, he didn't notice

There was nothing, then or now
To distract from the path
Either paved road, or dirt path
No matter the twists or curve
Nothing to lose his way

There is one end, for him
Maybe two, but that's no concern
Just her, and by her side
Always looking, just to find
Another stranger, to share the ride