transitions

ten thousand wanders later

a victorian pumping station

a conservatory in a palace

the paper city from a high place

crouch end

the bend

of the railway tracks

the secret door

exploring hacks

                        a packed lunch

a weird hunch

that it's better to go forth

 up to the white house on a grey 

hill, passed an allotment

wandering still

how many hours have passed

when did night turn to day

still finding

new places to lay
to rest old stories
past failures and faded glories
with each mile traversed
a thought unversed
surfaces, i held your tiny buddha baby

he cried

i looked at your daughter

she cried

but those dancing eyes

they defied

the sadness she was taught  

and that old coversation

that left us both weighty with guilt

wish I could explain

why I'm never around

why I never show up

wish I could make you feel

less alone

wish I knew what to say

to make you feel like you're home

when we're together 

but there are no words