Sunday, October 7, 2012

a poem and a song

where we need to be

A dry red wine and no change in time
Crooked necks and no regrets
Mate te and clothes from yesterday
Dusty stones, two different homes
A field of corn, a child born
Primitive land and weathered hands
Trees in a line, scarce road signs
A glimpse of sunshine, lost sense of time
Feet asleep from a bus ticket cheap
Hand crafted fair, tourists whom stair
A mountain stretch, but here’s the catch
We are who we are when we travel far

go forth and love, 

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