Sunrise tells me to pack my bag.
Early morning is a good time
to walk out the door.
My footsteps won’t leave
a shadow.
Sunrise tells me the secret
to life is perpetual wanting.
I want to wander.
My bag is always packed.
I keep it by the door.
Sunrise punches my ticket.
I’m ready to board the bus.
But my feet aren't on the steps.
they don't want
to leave a shadow.
My bag is packed, but I hate to travel.
The idea of wandering is better
than squished into a seat,
breathing in sweat
and exhaust fumes.
published in Contemplate
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