Outliers, nomads, vagabonds of sorts
We have many names, us unsettled at heart
One city, one place will never be enough
We travel, not to find ourselves, but to discover higher truths
We travel to meet people like you

Without said journeys, blank pages fill your soul
You whither and dry and just plain crumble
Colors haven't touched your eyes,
Wonders, your mind
Read all the pages you can possibly come by

I, for one, can say this is truly true
I've found wonder and intrigue,
But I'll always be most interested in traveling with you

                                    *s.q.