Traveled a storyteller from afar
It was a chance meeting with him
Was at the bistro so desolate
Could hear the fork and knives speak
Tried striking up a conversation
With the lonely lad
But he wasn't interested much
Just finished supper in solitude
Ordered a steaming cup of coffee
Suddenly the weather turned grim
I could hear the clouds roar
In mood to add to the dreariness  
Flashes of lightning lit up the street
I could see a faint silhouette
Walking towards the bistro
The man at the counter busy
Cleaning the crockery and plates
Faint music playing in the vinyl  
Dark and dim added to the slowness
As if time stood still
A weary traveler enters the bistro
Not even a glance towards anyone
Walked up straight to the counter
He carried a strange backpack
A man of about late sixty
Tall and strong built
Ruffled hair and heavy boots
Faded clothes and cigar smokes
The whole place now smelled of him
He placed the order and sat down quiet
His face hid from the cigar smoke
He was almost in a meditative mode
I watched him for sometime
Then, went towards his table
He was courteous but spoke few
I asked him, “Where are you from?”
He said, “I am from distant land.”
He named not the place
But he was a storyteller
He carried the burden so heavy
Stories he had to carry for years
He didn't know how to write
But he had a marvelous memory
He remembered each and every detail
And he was a raconteur famed
First time he visited this town
He picked up stories from various lands
Which he narrated on demand
He ate slowly and chatted with me
Wasn't aware of the heavy downpour
The man had a magnetic effect
I didn't realize, we spoke for long
A tell tale sign he was the master narrator
I, for long was mesmerized
We spoke through the night
Listening to his various tales
Transfixed, I listened like a child
At the break of dawn
I realized how long it has been
We had morning coffee together
And could see his face clearly
His eyes looked through me
Rested on some distant place
Which he left behind
I asked, “How long you have been traveling?”
He said, “Since the time I was a young man.”
Some unsaid grief his eyes spoke
Which were not there in the tales
He finished his coffee
And thanked me for the company
I asked, “Where do you intend to travel?”
He said, “I do not know.”
He has been on the road for long
And he bade me goodbye
With a faint smile
He walked away