He is a traveler.

But a minstrel with his wares,

He carries on through the desolate storm,

His heavy and weathered clothes from foreign lands,

The story of his wrapped in the heavy scarf that covers his solemn face.

A hope of finding a home, an end to his journey.

Of finding someone worthy of staying with.

But his journey never ends.

Hey, so I know its not much but I have had horrid writers block for the longest time and this is just me trying to combat that.

I might flesh this out later into a full story, who knows.

Reviews are appreciated, let me know if I should turn it into something more.

Expect a bunch of other writers block combatant short stories soon, followed by some eventual entertaining (hopefully) stories.