by rebsnugs

The jungles keep calling to me
Raised on the prairie of corn and beans
I rush for the cover of thicket and thorns
And find shelter among the trees

The skylines beckon for me
I treck and I tumble for distant horizons
A wheel is a cycle of lunar progression
But one step at a time is my pace

A language of culture and life
To describe my sensations, the smoke in my eyes
The mist on the grasses, the ache in my gut
We convene upon threadbare bedding

Patchwork of rosemary, maple and ash
A screen gently sliding to yield to your passing
Distracted and distant, the sparrows and doves
Our expansive chamber of echo and song

The resounding silence, a chorus of numbness
Confusion and questions of absent adventure
We can’t stop the waves from crashing ashore
The sounds of my world will suffice