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Jan 2012
Dine on open roads and dust
Each meal another stamp
These pockets filled with traveled ink
Beg gypsies to make camp
These stamps they urge for permanence
These stamps they whisper home
But these soles deaf to stand-still dreams
Won’t listen, will just roam
No tar pit streets or shackled needs
Will hold me in their grasp
My ship will sail to float the sea
The nets are tied and cast
These travels promise me more meals of dirt and humble brews
My thirst cannot be quenched indoors
A drought my soul would lose
These travel stamps drip ripe with ink
They live to smudge and haunt
The signature I’ve signed in soot
My birthright home does taunt
Yes, I must off to earth and air
Where deeds for land are scant
These soles the only souls I trust
I hope you understand
Written by
Elise Marie
2.3k
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