A Piercing gaze, A quizzical lookCurious about the purposeAn unwilling half broken smileOn a memories creased face,
A faded topi colour lost in the sun,Tell tales of the time on the mountains,Time of solitude, of reminiscence,Time of a heart-song, of a folk-taleTime of a new love, of a lost youth
The grass his bed, the bleating sheep his confidantesthe blue sky his canvas, the valley his play field.
Ever wondered what it is to be a shepherd?
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