the vagabond I love

adrift
traveling dusty roads to nowhere
under skys ev'ry shade of blue

dinner!
spaghetti made of your shoestrings
warming palms at crackling embers
alighting like fireflies

quiet stream
slipping over polished rocks
foot falling into soft sandy bottom

wayward
aiming for the bright moon
rising above the black pine tree line

drowsy
huddled in the chill with nothing to share
except the whole wide world