To Be A Travel Writer


Fingers fluttering across the keyboard

Pen in hand

Paper crisp

Inspiration flowing

As the sun sets in the west

On a foreign coastline


A scarred hand meets mine

With a callused grin

As words tumble from desert lips

To weave a story

Never before told


A few dollars in pocket

To carry through the week


Endless nights revising

Gallons of coffee

Numb fingertips

Stalled mind

Surging of adrenaline

Another chapter finished


A rickety bus travels down an unpaved road

Three seats remain empty

I contemplate the metaphor


Destination, unknown


Lesson, unlearned


Story, told.


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