To you, struck by wanderlust…
Spending my life away from home
Catching sunrise after sunrises, loaned.
Time will intone if there’s chance for me still–
To find my last “away” away from “away” if time will
Because Saturdays bleed like maples in winter
(And lands before the hinter don’t seem to.)
I wonder… Do they still dream of that beyond their valley?
Does Brother Su Jon ever leave his alley?
Will my first love, Cindy, ever leave Cali?
What strife we create in those places
What a life I’ve lived with pocket aces
In “away”‘s relaxed, good graces–
That magic that happens between unfamiliar faces
And the jaded happenings between the strange chases.
I envy people who don’t dare leave
I envy their courage, their steadfast need
And I sometimes keen
(As I liken do).
I want to stay in one place forever too
But not really…