Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2015
This house, it does not speak of me
I am unknown to these adobe walls
these cool clay floors
I press my feet against
wanderlust, I dance
through desert nights I roam
these sands to drink the moon
and follow stars toward home.
I travel endless nights
painted blue with black
wait for sunlight
once again to warm my room.
Nights I dream to be
in wild fields
with you.
CA Guilfoyle
Written by
CA Guilfoyle  F/Tucson, AZ
(F/Tucson, AZ)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems