The past is a foreign country
No boundaries
Except my own limitations
No passport required
Adventures take me to places
Of delights and darkness
Each night I travel
To yet another country
The future was just a dream
Of existence
Travelling distances
Of time and space
People I meet along the way
Some just pass by
Others stay a while and walk
With me, sharing my time there
Some sadly depart,
Our souls entwined
For but a moment,
Lingering, living, laughing,
Until the time comes to depart,
The last kiss,
The last touch,
The last smile.
I hope our paths will cross
Again in the future.
Postcard memories I hold
Within my heart,
At times I take them out
And ponder them,
I can never go back
To those foreign lands,
Some best forgotten,
Best left behind,
Always moving forward,
Never back
I’m a foreigner speaking a language
Of emotion and sentiment,
Of pain and anguish,
Of desires and disappointments.
Have I seen you along the way?
Have I yet to meet you?
Are you here with me now?
Walk with me, let’s chat a while
And share postcards,
Stay with me
And let’s travel together
In this foreign country of ours.
Zika's Musings 