The Seeker

The man who walked the whole world round
Moved swiftly and surely with nary a sound
But the pitter-patter, pitter- putter
Of his shoes stepping o’er road and gutter.
Heads would turn and wag and wiggle,
His appearance did their fancy tickle,
For he wasn’t in simple traveler’s garb
But in a suit, tie, and a tag named “Schlarb”
Stuck onto his prominent front pocket,
Just beneath his shirt, a dull colored locket.

While the people sat to their bread and butter,
When he came past their windows, they would mutter,
“What is this tramp doing, walking and stalking,
To interrupt our business and daily talking?
See his eyes, how they seem to shift.
He’s just the sort of man prone to drift
Into and out of trouble and prison
Not long after the sun has first risen.
Look how he smiles, the insufferable sneak,
The type who preys on the helpless and weak.
He’s like the wolf searching out the sheep
Waiting to eat the poor lamb that first peeps.
How long will he stay here in our patch of earth
And leave us to our own natural mirth?”

In less than an hour, they got their desire.
In less than another, they focused their ire
Back on each other, as was their habit
From the lowest workman to the abbot.
And the man who walked the world over
Whistled and searched for his lost lover.