There, he stands

A sort of an oil painting

With thick, murky pastels

And black and grey.

 

One man walks on an unknown road

Under a weighty sky.

 

We shall not know

The sixty years he had walked by.

 

We only see his back.

His hands in the pocket

Is the detail at most.

 

It is one person on one path

And that is it. 

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