Nomads Poem by Patti Masterman
Nomads
Just lonely nomads;
we're each others heroes,
for no other hero could there be,
travelling paths so ordinary.
Your name my siren call,
come heathered dawn or sultry dusk,
dim footprints only, left to show
where you shed your human husk.
Dead or dying; we're all the same,
intrepid explorers of rusting earth;
just hoping in some distant future
they'll remember our death or birth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/4/2024 11:30:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
