my first time around the world
i had short hair
and packed every lotion and anti-wrinkle cream
till my white t-shirts
stained brown
and i had to leave
a piece in every country.
my second time around the world
hair had more split ends tied back
and my pack held what i learned
from those
wandering souls on the
road more worn than i had
ever originally guessed.
now… i am wandering, hanging out
and my hair is a wild kingdom of creatures
living quite contently with me
barefoot, light weight as air
each step
leaves an imprint
till bit by bit i’m gone.
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