Last updated on November 24, 2021
You sit here as the wind groans
listening to grand foreign overtures
you silence the moment the heart moans
for the bottomless taste of foreign statures.
Always imagining where else you could be
as the windowpanes creak aloud
seeing, feeling the rush of the mountain, the flow of the sea,
your thoughts pile on the redundant historic mound.
Here you are, having invested in irregular attire
A shame the peak of it all’s a vest
with your vested interests minding a quagmire
and your mind’s vestibule aflow with alpine zest.
Your thoughts are the only geographical constant
as the seas and oceans they fade into the night
as tonight’s ceaseless winds rampant
wishing, being, hoping to wish to be out of sight.
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