The Old Man Poem by Sunday Igwebuike

I saw an old man, On the dusty road, Of life. Dried, parched and tormented! An old man, dried parched, and tormented. Tried and tired! An old man traversing time and bounds, Yet it does not seem, How far in going! The journey seems un-end! There he goes, Trudging along parched soil, Listening for a soul to catch. Yet none cares for his wares. He goes on putting head down, For the people. Lifting Loads! None brought him home, For a quench of thirst, And fight stomach anguish! Now, in trepidation, He lay stretch on the trunk, Of a fallen pear tree, In ugly soliloquy, As passers- by hurried past! Now, a darling soul in her pilgrim, Brought fresh corn and water, First of a kind, And asked after his name and occupation. The old man fully assured, Surrender and thank his stars!