The Foreigner

The foreigner

makes his way

as the snow falls.

 

His feet,

unaccustomed,

are awkward and crude,

and leave a crooked

muddied

trail

in a vast

and white

field.

 

He arrives at a cottage,

and writes his name 

with red ink

in an empty guestbook.

 

He takes off his boots.

 

and looks out the window.

 

sees his trail in the snow-

but longs for a path home.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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