The Traveler

The tall, slim man stood waving his hand.
He said "Farewell" to his beloved land.
No suitcase, no backpack, just him and his feet.
No airplane, no driving, just him on the street-
A street that led to an unexplored place.
He walked straight to the sky, an emotionless face.
The land was behind him; his home it had been.
He walked through the clouds with the street growing thin,
Till the stars just below him, small sparks at his toes.
He was in sky-high lands, where the wind never blows.
Though hours turned to days, and days into weeks.
His face was still blank, not a moan, not a shriek.
His soles started to warm, he finally looked down.
The heat of a campfire, his destination was found.
The people, he recognized too well to forget.
His family it was, his cheeks getting wet.
Tears rolled down his face, tears of happy, not sad.
For he had been a husband, a father, a dad.
He knew he would see them, he prayed every night.
His son suddenly looked up, he smiled, eyes bright.

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