Dust of Miles

The heart wanders restless

The steps drag on

leaving muddy footprints behind
and the waters of lands afar come onto the shore to wipe them away.
I had held a hand once
the warmth of which had made me feel sunny in the autumn of my life.
I hear the clock ticking in the silence of the night
And the dog crying out for his mate.
The bus rattles the memories in my head when it goes over a pothole.
The forehead is blessed with the dust of miles.

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