The sun shines for the vagabond

Sometimes the sun winks from the east,
the summer hums a lazy breeze,
the heart is light, the mind at ease,
the vagabond thus ambles on...

Trees welcome him with shadows deep,
the silent noon, a dreamless sleep,
when weariness walks off his feet,
he's up again, for the way is long...

And when the winds are stern and grave,
he'll march on till his heart is brave,
then rush back to the nearest cave,
Alas!! it is a long way gone..

His ragged blanket, a mental sheild,
that sunshine of a daffodil field,
some old scar, he never lets heal,
on a night like this, will keep him warm...

The torrent shall never shake his will,
only make him try but harder still,
thus floating midst fear and thrill,
the vagabond keeps fighting on..

And maybe when the dawn does break,
the first sunbeam shall kiss his brow,
and he will rise, and set forth on,
a journey he started long ago...

Or maybe when the dawn does break,
the first sunbeam shall kiss his brow,
and fulfill a promise that it made,
to a vagabond, long long ago...

The day, my friend, you shall not greet,
the first sunbeam, with ready feet,
no sun would shine that day on earth,
no breeze, no shade, no summer mirth..

And all shall know, that day beyond,
the sun shines for the vagabond...