Dear traveling poet
I wrote you a sonnet
Before you left at sunset
That I tucked in your sachet

A sonnet to the poet
Who enamored me with his rhyming of words
Depictions of beauty
That caused me to fall in love with a never seen world

We’ve grown together, we’ve grown apart
Such is the longing in my heart
This poem I now write
Depicts a parting of souls going from left to right

You are a nomad with no land
Your map and compass in hand
Leaving homeless this land
Leaving mere foot prints in the sand

So worldly yet so lonely
You start over in every city
Leaving behind a story, and legacy
All for the love of the geography and the history

You asked me to come along, many a time
I refused for I loved the world that was all mine
A world I did not want to share with others
Due to fears of myself and others

I don’t know when you will return
But I’ve begun to write many a poem
For it is now my turn
That I seek the new home

A sonneteer I wanted to be
But a traveling poet I now want to be
I cannot write just of broken hearts
No longer a beseeching poet I wish to be

I’ll be the nomad with no land
With a map and compass in hand
I’ll go off in the distance
Where memories are left to the reminiscent

I’m making the world my new home
And I’ll dedicate it many a poem
Adjectives, nouns and verbs
And spoken words to be heard

I’ll be worldly and maybe lonely
I’ll start over in every city
All for the love of discovery
Making friends whom will now be my family

Maybe again you and I will meet
Or maybe from the far off lands
We’ll find a new traveling poet
Who will travel with us, whilst holding hands.

© Valery Santillana

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