Down the bushy path
Walked an old man
His mind apart
Lonely but felt warm
Had he could hold a stick
The path slippery and scaring
Eyes in dark
Voices roaring
Not a chance to smile
Signals of danger around
Holding breath awhile
Sympathy eyes abound
Hopeful and promising
Some flashes of light afar
Not a city awaiting
A home for a thirsty man