A Nomad

I am...

A Nomad.

 

I long for the soles of my feet

To break the surface of faraway soil.

This irreperable, all-consuming vacancy

Begs me to taste the air of a foreign land, 

To unfold coffee-stained maps, drive a moonlit, winding road

With no destination.

 

Oh, how the yearning

Whispers,

Scratches,

And wells in my chest.

 

For I am a nomad, a wanderer at best. 

This poem is about: 
Me
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