The Traveler

08/21/09

There goes the clink-clanks of the streets of Delhi
Here comes the clatter of wagons and carts
Smell the warm aroma of their well-prepared curry
Far, far away from the bustle of modern cars

Smell the scent of the lush jasmine flower
Lay on the green grass and linger till later on
I sit with table, chair, and bleak afternoon air
Sipping my tea without a single care

My cup, my plate, they rissle-rattle
As an elephant charges for battle
The roar of a lonesome lioness is my cry
With the hot African savanna sun in the sky

Savor the taste of exotic black coffee
Push your feet through the warm sand
I sit with table, chair and blazing noon air
Sipping my coffee without a single care

The snow begins to start swinging in
Watch the angel form on the ivory ashes
Reindeers come running round the ice river
Icicles, my eyes isolate the colder

Save these travels in your cup
Tell these tales to toddlers on your lap
I sit with table, chair and starry-midnight air
Tipping travels without a single care

Traveling times, ones no one can see
Traveling places, with just my cup and me