Tuesday, November 06, 2018

Armchair Traveler

A friend told me she will be in Patagonia 
I shall tell her of my trip to the South Pole 
pulling a three hundred pound sled—
a solo trip in minus 40 degree temperature 
The cold bites my breath. While she beds down I
shall open my tent and dream
of a hot shower and clean sheets
Traveling through the pages of a book—
I’ve been down the Nile, crossed deserts,
roamed through caves, listened to 
the roar of oceans, climbed the highest peaks, 
even collected rare orchids  in a primal swamp
Instead of a stamped passport I write
the name of where I’ve been in a lined journal


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