Walking on the streets.
How mindful,
how saddening.
An autumn gust
coming to an end.
The night is coming-
and I need a resting place?
A winter wrap,
to recall a bygone glory.
Over a field of death,
plum fragrance.
The nature of my game
A Wandering Poet
As I walk around I like to record what I experience. Through poetry, ideas and thoughts I hope I can share some of these experiences with you.
A Wandering Poet 