The Ragged Man

Like his clothes he is tattered and worn. He walks; endlessly he walks. covered in dust that smells of age and dirt from lands not yet visited. The faded green of his once regal clothing is a reminder of better days. The color of his station. bleached countless times by elements. He is as aimless as any transient, Vapid as any of the downtrodden but do not provoke this man. He does not appreciate having his solitude disturbed.