Wanderlust
A wanderlust calls, to my soul,
For paths, unknown, untrod.
Before the closing, of the day,
I'm called home, to my God.
The moors, the mountains, and the seas,
That I have never seen,
So many places, on this earth,
Where I have never been.
A life is far, too short, a time,
To see, all there's to see.
A little corner, of this world,
Has e'er been home, to me.
But, as the Autumn, of my days,
Turns, to the Winter's cold,
I wish, that I could start again,
Heart, young again, and bold.
For paths, unknown, untrod.
Before the closing, of the day,
I'm called home, to my God.
The moors, the mountains, and the seas,
That I have never seen,
So many places, on this earth,
Where I have never been.
A life is far, too short, a time,
To see, all there's to see.
A little corner, of this world,
Has e'er been home, to me.
But, as the Autumn, of my days,
Turns, to the Winter's cold,
I wish, that I could start again,
Heart, young again, and bold.
Donna L. Ferguson Dudley, copyright 2018 2/23/18
Art http://yamichi.deviantart.com/
Art http://yamichi.deviantart.com/
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