PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Still and silent, he stood in the growing light of the morning sun; only the squinting of his eyes and the drops of sweat coursing down his pale, baby face skin, giving any sign of life, as he gazed down the long, desolate country road. Into the hazy unknown, it seemed to go on forever, just like the unseen thoughts that existed within his mind, it had no end, no beginning, just a long stretch that carried with it, memories and ghosts of a past, long forgotten by the world. Onto his back, he threw the tattered, olive drab sack; holding tight in his hand, a beat up old long bow; his only comfort in a dying world, he set off into the horizon.