The Wanderer

The Wanderer

They call him the nomad,
They called him a freak.
A man with no home,
But no losses to weap.

A man with no problems,
Just the wind in his hair.
A man with no family,
No friends to show care.

To the brave he is humble,
To all, shows respect.
To none he owes favours,
No debts to collect.

His clothing; opponents,
Who stepped in his way.
Wolf hide and Shark teeth.
Now whos the prey?

But the lone wolf walks onwards,
No path he'll retrace;
Old routes lead to memories;
Of friends now erased.

Final son of a legion,
The last of his kind.
A man only searching;
for peace to his mind.