The Explorer

The Explorer

The boots laced
hair in mouth, hair in face,
the warm wind that carries her
away from this place.

The tickets for the planes,
the long sleeper trains,
the search for direction
from rusted weather vanes.

The fingertips brushing the green,
the jeans not quite clean,
gazing at the city lights,
what secrets & stories might she glean.

She is the wizard of all this wandering,
the illusionist who vanishes
without the need for applause,
or even the reappearance.

She is the footprints
leading to the horizon,
the wind swept erasing
of the direction she went.

She is the wild blue in the yonder,
the walking to stay sane;
She is the lust in the wander,
the adventure in the vein.



Sandaliโ€™s Reveries



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