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.

Be sure to follow Molly on Twitter!

Published by henhouselady

I am the author of Saving the Hen House. I didn't know when I started it would turn into a series. I love to ride motorcycles, the blues, my family, and going on adventures. This old hen rocks.

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