The traveler 

Your face begins to 
smudge and smear 
unforgettably unrecognizable 
like the pages of a well-worn 
book I know I’ve drifted through 
before while dancing in the
rosy lens that bends toward 
crowded cloud-like cobblestone.

You begin to spiral out of 
view – never seen with eyes,
but felt through visions of
vibrant reminiscence of
that flowering road now
stretching awake with faint
phantoms of my travels passed.

Your face begins 
to smudge 
and smear 
unforgettably 
unrecognizable 
like the pages
of a well-worn 
book I know 
I’ve drifted 
through before 
while dancing in
the rosy lens that
bends toward crowded 
cloud-like cobblestones.
You begin to spiral out 
of view – never seen 
with eyes but felt through 
visions of vibrant 
reminiscence of that 
flowering road now
stretching awake with 
faint phantoms of my 
travels passed.