Notes About The Poem

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There Are Travelers

In the small hours of the night,
the moon was bright and ready.
Something was waiting to be born—
a vision
or more than a vision—
hope wearing sunglasses.

There are travelers
and then there are travelers
who return.
Some stay behind the moon--
no sunglasses.

And me,
I just sit here waiting
for the next episode,
wanting nothing special,
no commercials to mute,
no reruns to ignore.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

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Amadore Avatar
April 24, 2015 at 6:52 PM
I enjoyed your poem, Bill. Certainly, we are all travelers, since time is a journey, and how far we travel only we ourselves, and fate, can decide.
Yates Avatar
April 24, 2015 at 9:42 PM
Glad you like it.
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