The morning sun touched
on his gentle blue eyes,
as he looked skyward to see a bird suddenly take flight.
A smile tweaked the corners of his mouth
“Freedom,” he whispered.
A youthful vitality wriggled beneath the weathered years
now engraved upon his face,
each wrinkle a road travelled that brought him here.
Fate’s hand rolling him on to the shore
a piece of driftwood
wandering upon the shores of his life
picking up pieces of magic.