The Journeyman

His thumbs are tired…

Walking along, all alone, they drive by without notice

Wouldn’t dare stop, not for him, wandering creature

Foot by foot he drags Erykah Badu bags on back

In touch with her, within him, and the wear on their feet

Heart palpitating profusely in pursuit of bohemian dreams

Friends, family, young couples, old, free spirits and stable

Each pass the man along paved road and it’s just as well

For the Road Less Traveled, like Robert Frost

He chose long ago, no matter the cost

Yet, in moments of weakness, he still dangles his thumbs

To somehow save him from this very fate he has chosen

“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” they say

And so God doesn’t allow trucker to stop to take nomad on to rest stop

Never offers opp to pick up and drop journeyman at end of the journey

For high atop mountain top, far from paved roads

Gravel tops and firm foot-worn paths

Lies the other side of the rainbow

Where those buckled-in behind wheel

And nestled in the back seat

Can only gaze after rain

And yes, drenched he may be from the downpour

Uneasy from blistered toes, aching bones

And fingernails filled with opposite of infatuation

But, so lives the journeyman, led by lone inner voice

As each time the clouds part

Engulfing those passers-by into the horizon

A wry grin consumes thoughts of his tumultuous trek

And then again, when (his) thumbs are tired

He tucks them in…knowing that if he can only keep up

With his dreams pushing forward

The rainbow awaits

If he can only persevere till the end of the journey

The rainbow…awaits

Will Richey

Fort Worth, TX