THE WANDERING BARD

The wandering bard has come from afar, His forehead lit with thousands stars. His face shines with a thousand suns, His smile is priceless, golden as one. He stands beside the road and sings, Whoever stops by takes a feather from his wings. Yet his feathers grow more splendid each day, He brings a little joy to everyone on their way. But where he came from, no one knows, Nor where beneath the moon he goes. He carries a song no one can hear, A secret he's carried year by year. Perhaps he's looking for something lost, Perhaps for a love worth any cost. Or perhaps he knows, as few men do, The road itself is what carries you. When lights die away and the day is done, There's no more laughter, there's no more fun. The bard alone closes his eyes to sleep, His sea is mysterious, wondrous and deep. And somewhere beyond the fading light, He sails his sea throughout the night. Until the dawn calls him once again, To sing for strangers, women and men. And though they take a feather as he goes, His wings grow stronger — God only knows.