drifter

Sometimes I think I have
gypsy blood in my veins
nowhere ever feels like home
and I can never rid myself
of the itch for new places
and faces
that call to me
through the unknown
unseen and unsought

It doesn't matter
that I've laid my head to rest
in the same region for 17 years
when I drift through the sameness
like a leaf unable to put down roots
forgettable to the passing faces
whose familiarity I resent
like a reflection
of my failed ability to fly

So I dream in silence
and imagine a bigger life
than the well worn paths
I fall into in a strange routine
I didn't so much choose
as wake up one day
and find myself in

My favourite life adventures
were always disasters
that somehow ended right
against all odds
and under different circumstances
I'm sure I'd live like the drifter
I sometimes wish I could be
every day a new adventure
waiting to be stepped into

© Indie Adams 2022