The Roamers and the Seekers
We’re the roamers and the seekers, the practical romancers who swear to God there’s no such thing as too much wonder. We’re the stayers and the goers, the ramblin’-rosers conceived in the hot’n’heavy between homesteaders and gypsies. (So you see why we insist there be hearths and dancing. Its in our blood.) We’re the hopers and the whistlers, we’re the laughers and the weepers, we’re the humdingers of the music and the motion and the touch of madness needed to be a man or a woman for all seasons. We’re the finger-crossers, praying to be remembered only for our rhetoric of gratitude.
Yes, we’re the hanger-oners to this oscillating
life of ours, ’cause breaking up is hard to do.
Some lovely sentiments in there, Mr Poet John. Never too much wonder.
Thank you, Alison.
Beautifully evocative!!
Hi, Gwen. Thank you.
Reblogged this on gypsy silhouette and commented:
love love love
Thanks very much, Elle!
This either needs to be set to music, it’s got the makings of a great little ditty 🙂 or I need to raise my right hand and take an oath. This is a manifesto, a ballad, a poem, a song. This is a heart promise and a diatribe of love. Love it. This is perfection.
I’m hangin’ on with you, John. Never too much wonder, even when discouragement sets in. Still room for wonder.