The Lost Man

By Toshani Singh

The Lost Man was a wanderer

Who traveled to and fro

With his nothing but his stave

To guide him, will he go

The harsh erratic lines of stress on his face

Carving a dejected map

Of the sorrows the man faced

And what will come to be

The man is bound to darkness

Waiting for light

And at the rise of the sun

He is free