I’m not doing well with the Limericks, but my muse seems to be sending other verses my way. I wrote this short poem while staring out my window, craving an adventure. Therefore, Wanderlust came into being. The words have a melancholy ring to them.
Pristine blue skied canvas
For billowy white clouds
Flowing franticly past my window
Like the cool jazz
Played by Kenny-G
On my radio.
Traveling toward distant places
Where I would like to go
So white and cold
But still beautiful
Against the blue sky
I know you will turn dark eventually
But still hold your beauty
with a promise of snow
While I must remain trapped inside
And I wonder why
A virus holds me prisoner still
When I crave an adventure
And the world beyond my door
Is full of cool jazz and blue skies
And the white clouds continuous flow.
Blue skies have always reminded me of traveling. Those clouds must all be on their way somewhere. I remember when I was a child lying on my back in the yard on a cool summer day imagining all the fun places those white clouds would visit. It created a strong case of wanderlust inside my young heart.
Who is Molly Shea?
Molly Shea is an accomplished fictional short story writer from Indiana who writes short stories and novels about a fictional town called Tecumseh. To read more of her short stories and adventures, click here.
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