Wayside Retreat

A quiet old man sits at the end of the road. Sitting, waiting patiently, for people to come. He offers a refuge from the noise of the city and wisdom of decades gone by… He’s seen the trains pass by his side, and once welcomed strangers to come inside. He was born before the war and offered refuge to boys far from home. He’s sheltered a family, not originally his own.  Now he calls to a woman, who’s lost her place, to turn him into her home.

His skin is peeling caused by sun and neglect.  His weight has shifted deep on the left. The proud façade he once showed, has rotted from rain, exposure and more. His glasses are cracked and obscure his view. But that’s what you expect when you’re close to 150 in truth.

He’s referred to as Greek, but claims Georgia his home. His names have been; Bailey, Bailey-Floyd and Smith to name but a few. Now he is called the Wayside Retreat.