Old Dreamer

The old man holds out his hand
His bony lifeless fingers reaching out into the darkness
His eyes that once shone like the full moon, now clouded over with a grey shadow
His mind is haunted with memories, his body ravaged by starvation

Sitting up against the hut watching the fire burn I listen to his story
The worlds mumbled through dry cracked lips
He tells a tale of a life long ago, one filled with family, prosperity and dreams
He remembers a time when the rain never stopped falling
all the rivers burst their banks
A time when his crop harvested enough food to feed his family for many months
A time when his grandchildren would all sit around the fire begging for one of his legendry tales.
But now that is all just a memory
“Another crazy story from a crazy old man. A dreamer” they all say
For all the rivers have long dried up, the crops just stalks in the dry dusty fields
The grandchildren haven’t visited in years
All have forgotten this old man

As I lay in bed later that night my heart goes out to him
I pray he holds onto his dreams because when night falls and you are surrounded by darkness your dreams are the guiding light at the end of the tunnel.