Old Joe

He skipped in his gait, like a bone had vanished from his lanky legs. He swayed from side to side down the streets of the only ground he's ever known. Being a local was an understatement to the sea salt cured veteran. Joe, quiet, almost mute, whistled everywhere he galavanted. The same handful of pretty songbird tunes escaped his lips, rain or shine, day in and out.  Some, a little uneasy near him, never paid any mind to this leather skinned being. He caused no harm, only brought with him a story that no writer could capture with words. To most, his last name was an evaporated term, but his history never seemed to leave their minds. His shack on the outside of town has been a family heirloom since before the place was founded. Some say he even was there when they colonized their tiny sandy town. A war veteran was among the many achievements this man could present to someone. Along with devoted father, husband, and son, there were many things this man could claim as a quality. Tragedy stuck him young into his early marriage, with two babies and a wife found dead, he all but near lost it. He came to this rock to find serenity, doing so in his own special way. He may seem like a nuisance to some, but if luck was in your favor, looking past his exterior, his worth to this world shown through. He himself is a blessing in disguise, a true image of the heart and soul of the earth. At first glance he may not seem like much, but through kind eyes and a caring demeanor, you would hold him in a rank as high as the Pope. He is genuine, in every sense of the word, doing things without being seen and without recognition. After one conversation you'll never forget old Joe.