I am beginning to see
That I like it better
When my dust does not have time to settle in one place.







I have grown fond of the feeling
That comes with pulling out piles of my belongings
And arranging them to fit into a bag or two.

My heart is at home
On the days that I spend held firmly in place by a seatbelt
Speeding off to somewhere new.







I long to be able to bottle the happiness that flows through me
When a whole new city stands there
Waiting to be explored by someone as wide-eyed and curious as I.

I cherish the anonymity that comes along
With being dropped into an unfamiliar location,
Where nobody knows my name
Or my story.






I am just one more face on the streets,
One more body passing them by
As they move on with their lives,
And I mine.

There is no tug of homesickness
No nagging need to return anywhere
Because my home is anywhere that I roam to.







A wanderer’s heart
Cannot be held down
By any anchor.