Treadmill Memories

Long ago, an old man took his possessions
And hit the road, counting his blessings,
When hearing his future was torn,
And sensing that hope was still-born.

Yet down in his heart as his tired feet moved
He trembled and cowered and glued
Thoughts together, strapped his senses
To his back, buckled himself in,
And committed his steps to the treadmill.

Yet the treadmill was tough, grinding at his mind,
And the time he had spent was wasted,
As the landscape answered effectively,
The haunted trees taunting him,
Creaking with memory.