The mystery-man with no name

The mystery- man with no name

He appears occasionally,
disappears just as quickly as arrives.
He comes , and he goes,
there is no way of being certain of his wherabouts.
I can sense him, even when I can't see him.
I can smell his old wool sweater,
his very light soap, and his sheepdog.
They are a pair, the two of them.
It is never one without the other.
I know him, when I meet him.
His eyes are kind, his handshake is warm and gentle.
He feels familiar.
His hug is welcoming,
and his arms are home.

He is mystery-man with no name,
but one day he is a man with a name,
and when he calls my name,
the mystery will no longer remain.