He is walking forward tracing his steps.
Round and round, step by step, waiting.
He hold it, hold it, hold it.
His old friend approaching, smile, and sit.
Wondering if it has to give him a hand or embrace him at the road end.
“I’m not alone. I’m carrying the baggage, he’s back,” It said.
He is back
It smiles in black, in red, in grey
One step further, kissing the prey
Spinning circle, he is the grey