Fleeting Sweet Sensation


I’ve spent my days a wanderer
Mostly on the roam
Though on the way I’ve made myself
Many a lovely home

Sometimes one room a mansion in
Sizeable, of solid wall
So life occur at will within
And I don’t have to hear it all

Other times that room
At one half or one third the size —
Others with but a curtain
To protect me from bypassers’ eyes

Sometimes with not even that
A simple corner of a room —
Arrange my bags for color
Drape my scarves upon the broom

Oh, I’ve made homes in teepees
And in yurts and trailers, and
To a geodesic dome
I’ve even put my hand

I’ve made many a camp
In deep woods, or some roadside by
And turned the backs of trucks into
Inviting nests in which to lie

Everywhere I go
The very first thing that I do
Is put the pretty things up front
The plainer ones away from view

And seek just for a moment
Ere once again away it go
That fleeting, sweet sensation
That I have a home to know


Among us, poets are not paid. The poet/editor of this website, being physically disabled, lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level. Become a patron of the fine arts at: https://www.gofundme.com/are-you-a-patron-of-the-arts

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