#12 By The Bridge

He lives in this little wooden box thing at the side of the bridge.
He’s got to be in his 80s with a beard that a warlock would be proud of.
I moved here to Paris from Des Moines two years ago.

I saw him the day I arrived and I’ve seen him every day since.
Every day except the 4th of June 2011.

That day he wasn’t there.
It totally freaked me out. I was sure he was dead.

I cried.
But the next day he was back.
I wonder where he went that day?

3 thoughts on #12 By The Bridge

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