A Man

I drift to where the spirits speak
A modest man, fragile and weak
A loss of what's suppose to be
Like a crewless ship, afloat at sea


Eyes starve as they burn and leak
A timid man, like a meadow's creek
Less of a prayer, more like a plea
A rest under the weeping willow tree


Values of the past, most antique
A humble man, insecurity that reeks
A fog filled future, which to flee
Like a locked door without a key