It's the rush I feel heading to the station
when looking towards my next adventure
It's the snowflakes that melt on my hair and boots
and seep into the concrete as I dash down the bustling streets of Chicago
It's the Christmas music that rings from the lobby
and the rickety whoosh of the train that lulls me to sleep
It's the glowing lights that decorate warm, snowy houses
as I watch them pass from my window seat
It's the frost on my car and cold, bitter air on my cheeks
as I venture into the dark and lonely lot, departing the station
It's the feeling of nostalgia I get, when I finally reach my destination
that makes me realize
what a wanderer
I really
am
