An Itinerant Wanderer

I’ve gotten too old to enjoy travel;
my physical body, breaking down;
worried, my mind may soon unravel;
then wander about like a clown.

I’ve lost all interest in other places;
I’d rather settle down at home;
now unconcerned over pretty faces;
living in a world all my own.

A beautiful woman still catches my eye;
and still, I enjoy lovely shapes;
my thoughts still give them love’s reply;
and, in my mind; my heart breaks.

For, I am no longer someone to love;
I’ll never again catch a woman’s eye;
I’m an itinerant wanderer, looking above;
and I’ll be alone; on the day I die.

The mind is a most beautiful place to live;
defining the truth; we want to see;
I still have, within me; much love to give;
my mind assures me, she loves me.

Nothing in this life is all that it seems;
physicality is merely an illusion;
the only love for me; is in my dreams;
dreams are my love solution.

Soon, I’ll return, on the wings of a dove;
my mind no longer needs to roam;
my thoughts will join the woman, I love
I’m an itinerant wanderer, come home.

Monty 11/15/24. # 2/448