Wanderlust Poem by scarlett ghost
Wanderlust
Town of brick and bone and rust,
mother of this wanderlust.
How I often stand and gaze
at blackened skies and smoggy haze.
Feet of leather standing still
Arms of cold and face of chill.
Someday I will walk away
turn my back and leave the fray.
If I could only find some heat
to satisfy these cold, damp feet.
Then maybe I could start to find
a way to love these ties that bind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/25/2024 3:34:02 PM # 1.0.0.1119
