As the sun sets upon the streets, I often see an aged man.
He wanders and stop; talking to himself, he must be lost.
Some say he has been waiting for his lover; however, he has been lonely for so many years.
Some say he has been looking for his children for many years.
Who knows who he is?
Who knows who he is looking for?
Once again, with the winds blowing through the bitter cold, the sun sets upon people rushing along the streets.
I see him again, but this time, he is wearing even more wrinkles like the wind withering away the youth of a tree.
He follows along with the crowd like a child stumbling, losing balance.
Then...gradually, he slows his foot steps and looks ahead of him, his expression filled with panic.
Who knows who he is?
Who knows of his whereabouts?
Suddenly, the wild wind howls.
In a blink of an eye, the streets are empty.
