Transient life of a wayfarer (100 poems)

Transient life of a wayfarer

Wayfarer sits in a doorway, a place along her way, in
As the light begins to turn night’s end, a moments’ pause,
For most might call her a vagabond, nomadic in her ways,
In life she does not mind the name, for her story she does so choose.

Arriving late from in the night, thoughtful to others, not disturb,
Her respect for local people will always be, held with in her heart, now
Rising to her feet she sets about to wander, a traveller with a soul,
Down through a small backstreet local market, in search of local food,

Trading simple currency, or exchange in kind for food,
As she eats, and chats there on her feet, to many passers by,
In search for simple lodgings beyond the dust of time,
To shelter life for but a short while before her it moves her on,

To place where her feet can set out from, a place not lost on thought,
In some direction, of random choices from deep with in her heart,
To live along the way, in local open spaces, the place she explores each day,
Clothed in common dress, while her conversations mingle with the people,

She meets and finds new friends, and stumbles into old ones too,
Many stories does she share, of the experiences, as a traveller,
The wayfarer in her heart, of a ranger of the forests, a nomad of the deserts,
The roamer of high mountainsides, a lover of the transient way of life.

(For all the wayfarers, travellers, and vagabonds, etc, living local in their travels, to the best and worst of days, may your feet always find the direction of your heart.)

2 responses to “Transient life of a wayfarer (100 poems)

  1. I like this one very much, too. I want be some kind of version of this woman. In my near future.

    Gotta go to work now. Yep, I work on Sundays – afternoon till early evening. I’ll get back to you soon.

    Have a great week ahead, Sean. Cheers!

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