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.
Patti Masterman's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Nomads by Patti Masterman )
- Dark Room, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
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- the mother sparrow, RIC S. BASTASA
- fed up of hiding the sadness and anger, xenalee haynes
- The Milennium Park, Tony Adah
- don't you dare send me a postcard, Mandolyn ...
- there is a way to write to make you unde.., RIC S. BASTASA
- in Vietnam i had noodles, RIC S. BASTASA
- someone who never drops you, RIC S. BASTASA
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