The Wanderer

Hanging Heart 3
By Lheydrian Martinez

The glassy oceans,
Beckon the salt in her blood.
The toffee colored sand,
Begs the warmth of her feet.

The mountains all too proud,
Plead her to scale them.
Her spirit too bold,
To refuse the challenge.

Dandelion fields dance in the middle of nowhere.
Weeds peep their small heads through the cracks of a concrete jungle.
Evergreens stand proud hailing the heavens.
Their breath fills her wanderlust lungs.

Her body is made from the clay of the earth.
Her soul from the whiskey rays of the sun and the silver beams of the moon.
Is she a part of the world?
Or is the world a part of her?

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