i am sitting by the fire with my back against the wall
and the ice in my hair is beginning to thaw
the cocoa is hot against my lips;
watching it swirl, i am careful not to tip
the mug in my hands, my quite pale hands,
and with the sweater drawn to my fingers my breath expands
in a small cloud, for a brief instant,
and before it dissipates, i am consistent
to sip my drink and close my eyes
whilst listening to the fire’s snapping cries
i’ll stay awake for now to deem
this whimsical moment a winter daydream
I am a dreamer,
a muser, a drifter,
I am a wanderer,
a ponderer, an aspirer,
I am a tea-drinker,
a new heights-seeker, a goal-setter,
I am a dreamer.
She had a bad case of wanderlust;
she had a longing to explore.
It seemed as if the possibilities were endless,
as if the mountaintops were never too high to climb–
the sky never too far from her fingertips–
the ocean never too deep to discover–
the horizons never too distant from her camera lens.
They told her she could only go so far,
that her dreams were bigger than her budget.
But still, she dreamt and she hoped…
and she eyed her special savings jar with the scribbled label,
The world amazed her,
and if she couldn’t travel with her feet,
she would travel in her dreams.
Either way, she would go with a smile.