A nomad stopped at my shop today
And I asked him what he would take
He said he would like an apple
And a large slice of fresh tea-cake.

So I did give, and he receive
And we sat and chatted of life
We could have been just us two on Earth
I thought, passing the butter knife.

At last he said he had to go
With a gentle ancient cough
He left a small wooden cross behind
Donned his cap, said goodbye, and was off.

The man was just a stranger
From Adam I knew not he
But he had such a peaceful aura
And he left that cross for me.

It’s quiet in the shop these days
Of the nomad I saw no more
Be he had such a gentle way with him
That moved me to the core.

©Joe Wilson – A gentle nomad…2016