The man who lost his feet

Up a dreary little road

There was a dreary little town,

With a dreary little man

That had a dreary little frown.

What does he look at

When he stares at the trees?

Nobody Knows,

He won’t say what he sees

There is many a tale,

Of why he is there,

Sitting everyday

On an old wheeled chair

Some say,

That he’s wrong in the head.

That he’s lost his way

And he thinks that he’s dead.

Others say

That’s just his routine

And that it hasn’t

Changed since he was a teen.

Most say that

We will never know

And that he is

Content to never show

All that we know

Is that every day

He sits in silence and

Stares the same way

Perhaps he waits

For an unknown friend

Who’s path through

The trees is to wend

What of the elders

Can’t they tell?

What happened to

Put him under that spell?

Most won’t speak

But I have heard a rustle

As to why it is that

He won’t move a muscle

They say that

Many moons ago

His love ran off

Into the snow

He chased after her

Into the night

And something in there

Gave him a terrible fright

For in the morning

He was found

Lying in a tight little ball

On the ground

I know that it’s strange

And maybe absurd

But from that point on

He has barely uttered a word

Except to say

That in the trees

On that fateful night

In the heart of the freeze

A vision came for

Him to meet

And when it left

It took his feet

Up a dreary little road

There was a dreary little town,

With a dreary little man

That had a dreary little frown

He waits patiently

In his wheeled seat

For the unknown stranger

To return his feet