A Wanderer's Solace

Friendly poles toss spotlights at his feet,
Beseeching the surrender of his forlorn words,
Never a judgment rendered, ever listening.
They bid him tread an asphalt stage, far from city eyes,
To thaw and bleed a melancholic heart.
Crooked smiles beneath his feet approve the woeful soliloquy.
Dominant leaved soldiers shield the darkness beyond;
A hidden audience wielding bony, swaying arms
Stabbing through openings as if to seize a memory or two.
He gaits along his transient bema, orating of wars past,
Families estranged, friendships and loves lost; his solitude,
While weeping winds whisper comforts and consolations,
Invoking whistles and whimpers amid the now waning darkness.
Tears shed.
His chafed knees readily greet a familiar friend.
Head bowed, the message concluded.
The rising sun reveals a rousing standing ovation,
Hailing from a myriad of dangling green.