I am alone here
Sojourner far away land
Fog in my pocket.
Need a place to rest
Skipping stones o’er the clear lake
Never where she sleeps.
Aged wood honeybees
Buzzing round the last dead tree
Breathe in the fresh air.
Far far away go
A bed for a barley pint
Breakfast with the moon.
On the water’s edge
Nothing to do forever
Happy Birthday Man.
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“fog in my pocket” and “breakfast with the moon” are definitely my two favorite lines.I also love how the whole thing skips along like the skipping stones in the first line. Very well designed. I love it.
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Thank you so much for your comments. Indeed, the sojourner can skip further than he can walk. All he or she needs is a certain lightness of soul and willingness to hitch a ride now and then with the wind.
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Great writing!
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Thank you so much for your comment. Words are the food of the soul, and poetry is the spice.
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