Vagabond Soul

Hungry taste of wanderlust, Roams within this flesh, Can’t stop now, have to go on— I haven’t seen it yet. Where I stop next, I don’t know Can’t even make a prediction, Just something new before my eyes Sating this addiction. Homes I knew and left behind, Were only in my mind, The spirit chaffed, burned to leave The body bided time. Don’t know if they live or breath, The family I once had, Lovers, children, fade away I was never a great dad. Can’t say why I wander on, What I think I’ll find, After twenty years I’ve seen it all, But can’t leave this behind. Another truck-stop diner here, Another waitress in bed, Tomorrow she’ll be far behind, To her I will be dead. I remember when this was fresh, All that was on my mind, When I was young and knew it all, And had nothing but time. The youth is gone by the wayside, But the impulse still remains, A forty-something wanderer, With nothing to his name. My feet they ache, my back is strained My reason cries to stop, Why is it that the drives me on? Why can I not block, The urge to go ‘round the next bend, To trudge on through the cold, I rue the day God gave to me, This cursed vagabond soul.