He’s cotton candy

Floating on the wind

With a heart sculpted

From tree trunks

And sand

 

Every clock in the land

Tells the time by him

For when his bones start to thaw

His body will rouse

To follow the seasons

On donkey and cart

 

With a hint from the breeze

Or a blink from the sun

The road calls his name 

Cos it feels his unease

 

From straw topped boxes

Folk tumble out

Onto dusty streets

Or lost, lonely lanes

To see the old man

With the pebble dash grin

 

Anticipation for all that’s to come

Sits on the faces of every last one 

There’s hustle and bustle

For a place by the campfire 

On a seat sitting by him

 

He brings news of loved ones lost

The joy of new life

And whose taken a wife

He is the wandering

Telegram wire

 

Soon moonlight is flowing

Ancestors are rising

They appear in the guise

Of wild forest dogs

And the haunting howls

Of gnarly old gales from the north

 

Voices grow louder

Each one must be heard

So they push forth their presence

With unflinching force

 

Bygone ghosts

Rise up like benevolent bubbles

Elatedly popping with joy

They scatter into the trees 

Waking the children

And bringing widows

To their knees

 

Such is the power

Of the travelling man

Harbinger of knowledge

Confidant of the earth

 

He holds the secret to life

And to rebirth

To the left he calls wisdom

From those who have gone

 

While on the right

He guards those 

Who still shine bright

 

He’ll tell the stories

Well into the night 

Til everyone’s sleepy

And he bids them

Sleep tight

 

He takes up his tales

With his donkey and cart

Rides into the sunrise

To make a new start

 

He’s the candy cotton man

Just blowing in the wind. 

C.K.23