Wayward thoughts
moving like a smoke
trying to be invisible
they don't know the home
they don't know the aim
they just know it's not where they belong

Wonder why
they wander
in search of something
they seek
the most glaring
the more
the better
In the quiver of better
they seem obsessed to me
forgive them for being childish
they seem headstrong to me

learning new
celebrating now
understanding old
changing the preconceived notion
they don't know the opinion
they have more questions than opinions
and the urge to know
just being their jovial self
they settle for eternal
and in some perverse way
the lap of this wanderer
feels home to me.