The Wanderer

a poem by matt ⭒ june 22, 2026

it's against my better judgment,
but it's always been my dream:
to take the road not taken,
to see and love the unseen,
and travel from here to infinity,
even though I'm just eighteen.

I'd bring only a small backpack
and a heart full of cautious hope;
I'll step aboard the midnight train
before you would ever know:
and there I'll sit by the window
watching the starlit landscape go.

I'd soon start drifting into sleep
as the train speeds up the coast,
but I'll always be awakened again
by those thoughts of you alone:
and with every unknown town I pass,
I know I'll still miss home.

if only you were a wanderer too,
you would sit right next to me,
and when we arrive by sunrise
at the magical city by the sea,
we'd stroll the streets together,
nowhere worse nor better to be.