The Forlorn Man

I remember him. He's a good man. Or he was, I suppose. He called you by your name. And when you came, he greeted you With a warm embrace. He turned to me, and grinned. "I'm going home", the forlorn man said. I waved to him, a final farewell. But he was gone, like a child following the wind. I have a picture of him up on my wall, From when he was carefree. He was happy. This reminded me of back then. He wasn't growing sad, he was Just getting tired. But he's okay now, I suppose. He's gone, like a firefly following the light. Guide him safely. He needs it.