Poem for Friday: The Lost Wanderer

by Olivia Watkins

He stands alone. Seeing only rain

On his path to eternal fame.

In his dreams he climbs mountains high,

But in the dawn he digs his own grave

In a monotone reality he cannot save.

But fighting giants, is in his mind

As he stacks an unread shelf with books he cannot find.

The fantasies he won’t let go.

Until they consume him whole

With a bitter-sweet aftertaste.

One day he’ll leave that life behind,

He’ll say his sanity he’ll find,

But one shy look from his colleague knows,

He’ll die before he gets there,

Lady luck isn’t fair.

Until he drifts to the stars,

He’ll reach for the clouds that come out from cars.

Until he goes where no-one knows,

In his dreams he’ll defeat his foes,

Until eventually he silently goes…