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
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: