Pandering to my Inner Vagabond, here…
If I could just wave a wand,
I would wander the world.
With my notebook in hand,
And a bag on my back.
I would sleep under hedges,
In hotels and haylofts.
Drink beers under trees,
And eat cheese on the moor.
I’d watch clouds over hilltops,
And boats on the ocean.
Shapes and shadows at sunset,
A moon with a view.
And I’d write trivial poems
Of snowfall and sunlight,
Birds singing at dawn
And the sounds of a stream.
There’s the lure of a skyline,
And skylarks above me,
Wine and wood smoke my welcome
At the end of the day.
To travel, to journey,
There’s magic in wandering
Over moorland and downland,
Through woods and through fields.
The world’s full of wonders
All waiting for wanderers.
Let me follow these paths
For as long as I can.
Can I come?
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Of course!
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Beautiful and very evocative, Mick.
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Thanks, Colin. I suspect you might empathise.
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A beautiful wanderers post, Mick. I love the magical feel of this poem. 🙂
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Thanks, Diana.
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good luck mick, the wanderer… maybe on a day I too will..
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Yes, do!
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Beautiful!
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Thank you!
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You’re welcome. I have a doubt. In the west, how are elders addressed? I am surprised how in some movies kids refer to elders by their names lots of time. Is adding mister/miss/missus the way or something else? As you might know, in India we use Uncle/Aunty, but I believe that means the member of family in the west.
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