Just Geography

We’ve been following old roads,
Carrying old loads,
Passed from hands to hands and
Shouldering demands
We can’t understand.

We’ve been drinking elixirs,
Looking for fixers,
Someone who’s handy with some spackle
Someone to tackle
Our old rusted shackles.

We’ve been roving all night,
Packing light,
A coin in the cap
And no home on the map,
For a return lap.

We’ve been getting older,
But never bolder,
Never bold enough to turn around,
To stare the years down,
To drive a stake in a piece of ground.

The wanderer is a language,
A song of anguish
That passes through trees,
Gets heard, gets forgotten, leaves
Before the next breeze

Reminds of whats and whens
Without the whys.

About viewingcamelot

https://viewingcamelot.wordpress.com/ View all posts by viewingcamelot

Say Something

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: