The Mysterious Storyman

December 16, 2011
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The pride in his step,
The darkness of his hair,
The way he walked,
Breathing only the mountain air.

His moccasin shoes,
Made of deerskin and thread,
Were patting against the ground
As he walked ahead.

An eagle necklace
Lay atop his shirt,
His jeans were blue,
And covered in dirt.

His eyes were dark
Like the night sky,
For the reason he didn’t stop walking,
Only he knew why.

A mysterious story lay in his mind,
Of present, future, and past,
And if he never solved the mystery,
His walk would last forever.

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