Thoughts of a Traveller

As I travel along this long road

I realize that am growing old

and I wonder who one day  my hand will hold

so that together we can make a home.

Could it be someone I know?

I stop and sit down

and my mind ponder on  the girls I know

from our hood to the ridges beyond

Could it be someone I know?

Starting from the rich man’s girl

who walks always head up high

may be searching for others like her

in the sky up there, among the stars

for she never speaks to any of us

members of the poor man’s clan

but with fate you never know

am prudent enough not to write her off

It could be her, only God knows

The poor man’s spawn

Tall, elegant and ebony

her voice a glorious melody

I long to see her day after day

in the fields as we graze

to be with her I always pray

my wish is to always hold her hand

For all I know.

But

wishes are not horses, nor beggars riders

 my wish to have her may be the horse I can’t have

other foxes may steal her away from me

because they have claws sharper than the cats teeth

I have to consider other choices far from these

maybe even to cross  land and see

To meet someone I have never known.

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