A saunter on a beaten track
Where many a step had passed
Some grazers, some travellers
Some lovers, some loners
Each had a story unasked
And came upon that supine trunk
Where many a weary took rest
The lilies and daisies on the mountainside
Had seen the weather’s best
Each turn of spur brought a different view
Each thicket varied in the trees that grew
The wanderer wandered
Flushed with it all
His wanderlust seemingly
Remained his sole call
And then chanced upon a home derelict,
Where many a children may have grown I predict
The roof had caved in,
The bricks were bare
The brunt of many a seasons
Was indubitably there
The wanderer, tread silently
Through the parlour and rooms
Empty window panes
And grates, spoke many volumes
Of what may have been
A family home
Where the clinking of glasses
And giggling and gurgles
Palpable yet in monochrome
The wanderer wandered more,
To quench his wanderlust
Though Paradoxically inappropriate
So wander on he must
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