Mr Nobody

Mr. Nobody A candle flickered upon a hearth newly hewn with stone, in a cabin upon a mountaintop freshly laid with snow. A smoky haze grazed the sky of wintry purple and gray. Whilst two busy hands colored a lumber tan, stoked the flames and wished the lonely hours away. All alone beneath the night, Oh how bittersweet! Seemed all those hours spent hiding from humanity. He labored and toiled, sat and read; but it seemed so futile because he had no little one to tuck into bed. No pleading eyes begging for a kiss, no soft eyes staring into his. There he remained working day and night, doing nothing but listening for sounds of life. And after one hundred years Mr. Nobody had died. leaving his belongings there. Till thieves came and whisked them away, but alas there was nothing of value anyway. All alone on that mountaintop, there the cabin stood: Despite peeling paint and trampled rhododendron bush. Waiting like a sentry guard, waiting patiently To snare another guilty man and make him believe that a lonely life would be better than a dozen years of penitentiary.