
A travel – exposed poet.
Blowing though the words.
A thousand road trips still ahead.
My mind points back
to how it always starts.
The memories of you.
The warmth of my tears.
A desire for adventure
that blows my way.
How else could it be?

A travel – exposed poet.
Blowing though the words.
A thousand road trips still ahead.
My mind points back
to how it always starts.
The memories of you.
The warmth of my tears.
A desire for adventure
that blows my way.
How else could it be?