My Walk-A-Day Journey Poem by Bryan Taplits

He walked and walked and walked and walked
I never knew his name.
This magic-man never changed his pace-
His gait always the same.
Eighteen I was when I first saw him
And thirty when he stopped,
He walked and walked on through those years-
A walk that seemed a bop.
Although I never saw him afterwards
And never knew his fate,
His walk was one with an
expressionless face-
Nor any other gait.
And now at 76
I repeat
that memory,
For I too walk with no seeming plan-
An echo of that very man-
who now isn't him but me.