Merry Wanderer

Let me be moved
On an autumn eve breeze.
May my soul brush gently
Against your tightened skin –
I am in no pain.
Perhaps you won’t be able
To recognise me;
Yes, I was always pale
But the frames on my face
Disguised me.
My bare feet
No longer are burdened by
The cold morning dew
Balanced on the browning
Dead leaves below.
But do not worry –
My journey is joyous;
I have always been
A merry wanderer.

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