Wanderer

Wanderer short poem

Photo by AlicePopkorn

Like a testudine wanderer or a gastropod tramp, the weight on my shoulders
shrinks my home.

Holes and scars of a limited life; duct tape and pants on display.
For in such a tiny home, lives such a tiny voice

the world needs to hear.

Plods leave a trail, glistening with hope
whose never-ending story may fade.

But carry it, kick it, do what you like;
that home’s in my heart
I’ll grip faithfully tight, whilst I stop to think about which way.

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