A weary traveler
Asleep on the bench
Tells stories not in his breath
But in his hunching
Like the slow arc
Laid about by the dropping sun
The rhythmic tide
Thrusting is weight
In an effortless fashion
A weary traveler
Tells more stories of destinations
Relates roads walked
And styles of architecture used
Within his own steady eyes
Like the flame that sits: ignite
A weary traveler
Knows in all due time
The stories worth telling
Do tell themselves out