iN THE POCKETS OF A TRAVELLER

You ask of Godfrey- yes it was I who knew him longest.But it was he  who taught me, how little one needed to be happy not how much.I always knew what he carried in his heart,when time came to search through his pockets I learned why. There was sand in his pockets always sand.There was his rain stained journal bound by hand.A small, twisted piece of green wire from the fence,that once surrownded Greenham Common land.An 8 sided coin an old AUSSIE 50 CENTS. On a grimy cord hung his Swiss Army Knife, a parting gift from his wayward Dad Godfrey carried all his life.In the pockets of a traveller,teabags,fishing line,and hook.A clean bandanna,atattered address book.He had an odd ballpoint pen  shiny and new- from  BOGGETER  REALTY-have we a deal for you.Sour Cherry candies gritty with sand (only 2).And although Godfrey refused to fly he kept an ancient flight itinary for Clementine,inbound from Peru.In the pocket of the travveller was a poem…Not penned by Godfrey unfamiliar to me.The poet  had compared his days to sand in his hand,and not letting any slip away without his knowing.In the pocket of the traveler there was sand….always sand..By Beatrice.

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2 thoughts on “iN THE POCKETS OF A TRAVELLER

  1. “The poet had compared his days to sand in his hand,and not letting any slip away without his knowing. In the pocket of the traveler there was sand….always sand.” What a lovely metaphor for living each day, aware.

  2. Thanks Mercy, must have been bawling when I typed this one, needs some heavy editing. But a favorite, many people have commented what they like about Godfrey, is that he is so “present” Indeed, he had a knack for just going where the days carried him- which I oft have to remind myself to do..

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