Backpackers Poem by Charlotte Peters Rock

I want to sleep in the dorm, where the backpackers sleep,
and to laugh and to joke and to tell tales of woe,
and to catch midnight buses, where backpackers go,
and to scrimp and to pinch every penny with them.

I would tramp under stars, where the backpackers tramp,
yes and hitch lifts to coves, where they play, in the tide,
and I'd shoestring on planes, over Moscow's dark side,
with the glow of excitement the backpackers seek.

And the ease of the friends and the backpackers' 'speak',
and the longing for more and the wishing for home,
but the need to go on and to live and to roam,
with a hint of adventure, beyond every street.

With the urgent, short living, the backpackers crave,
and the brightness and stars, that reside in their eyes,
and the easy acceptance of help, and the prize
of the knowledge, that life is to take.

10Mar1993 CPR