Open Spaces

Ironic how you ask for breathing room,

yet end up wanting open spaces.

Along the lines of a map,

your footsteps trace the broken road.


Lost in the eyes of travelers,

you sympathize with them

as they seek and search,

the addiction unending.


No one stays long,

no sunset is kept at bay

when you lose the time

drawing close to paradise.


I breathe in the air

and exhale the postcards

I want to send back home

into your waiting palms.


Polaroids stuck on the wall

remind you of the places

your soul leaves traces behind,

longing to return.



“We carry inside us the wonders we seek outside us.” — Rumi



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