She loved the world
no, literally
She loved waking up under new skies
And taking the road less travelled by
She was guidebooks
And one way tickets
Her suitcase , a trophy
with little papers from everywhere
She loves how home is a feeling
How every language has the same laugh
She loves how safe is the smile of a stranger
willing to help
She loved it all
Trotting across the globe
making memories to carry
Having friends she doesn't understand
Running through roads she's never been
But Oh!
How she loved sitting in that chair
across that window
Gentle breeze ruffling her hair
Coffee mug in her hand
Feet upon the rug
Oh! how she loved being home!
YOU ARE READING
UNSUNG BALLADS
PoetryThe ocean does not apologise for it's depth and the mountains do not seek forgiveness for the space they take and so neither shall I. This is some of my original poetry , that was getting too tired sitting on the last pages of my notebooks.
