little zwerg...

a kind jolly face, eyes looking ahead up towards the sky
wrinkles that sag past his rosy, flushed, like apple-looking cheeks,
his solid white beard speaks of wisdom, of age, of laughter,
of knowledge.
knowledge gained perhaps from the book permanently wedged under his arm.
a book that i will never be able to remove to know at least the title.
one foot in front of the other, his boots speak of hard work, of labor, of travels (perhaps).
where are you going, little zwerg?
are you taking the 'gute nachricht' into all the world?
no baggage, just one foot in front of the other.
a book.
the word to sustain you.
the WORD.
so many places to go. your feet are positioned ready to go.
yet, here you are, at the end of a coffee bar called lemonjello's.