Moving On

Y’know, sometimes it seems
there's nothing left,
just one foot after the other,
shoulders hunched over,
eyes fixed on the road
passing,
marking time,
the journey nothing, just
something-to-do
until the road finally ends.

How does he do it,
that Tramp,
after every end
when there’s nothing left
one can think or see or even
imagine,
yet with some resilience,
some strange power that moves him
to click his heels,
twirl his cane
and move on
smiling at the road ahead?