Tea Party and Other Poems

Wanderer

I will come back

Like every year

From a long journey

Through the clouds

A weather-worn wanderer

With cracked lips

Covered in specks of cirrus

And drenched in acid rain

You, on the other hand

Will be waiting

On this broken earth

Caked in a layer of dust

With aging bones

And a withering breath

But you will greet me

As always

With magnificent smiles

Bountiful gifts

And subliminal pain

I have swept

Over vast plains

Drifted past ancient alleys

Of distant villages

Or great cities

Hovered over woods

Marshes and valleys

Crawled towards the twilight

Stumbling like a drunken crab

And sung ever so softly

I know

I believe

I belong

But for now

I shall rest

Smear the dirt of my travels

On your walls

Gorge myself with the remains of

Your burnt out dreams

Watch your glittering façade wilt away

As you recite the tales

That have haunted me so long ago

And lull me with your calypsos

So I may

For a moment

Forget

But the time will always come

When I will leave

And take another voyage

Through the clouds

You will bid me bitter farewells

Pour over me entreaties

Stand helplessly on this broken earth

And watch

As I drown

In some dark corner

Of the horizon