Armchair Traveller Poem by ann rta

Before I die I want to see
realms of gold and mystery.
I want to fly through the sky
to places different to my eyes.
No more green and pleasant land,
more verdant jungle, rolling sand.
No more red semi's in a line,
mud huts or temples will be fine.
I'd like to feel too cold or hot,
let gold suns warm a lot.
Temperate climate go away,
I want extremes to have their day.
Will wanderlust be abated?
Will travel hunger be placated?
Or will I stay and dream in a chair,
aging, longing, full of care.
I must resolve to take a stand
and soon fly to a foreign land.
No more watching on the side,
life is for living, I'll take the ride.