On cold nights
I drift off.
To those
phosphorescent fires.
Waiting for me
on our island paradise.
The closer I get
the more lust.
Wild roses from
an English garden.
And I will say
’Well here it is –
my final home.
Stepping into water
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 