Lonely Traveler
By Trudie Gauerke
Traveling over a vast, flat, scarceley weeded field,
The blue turtle, no larger than a golf ball walks,
Onward, his beady black eyes searching the
Horizon for any sign of civilization, for he's
Been traveling a long time always searching,
And longing for company.
His colorful shell carries a glare off the sun,
Beating fiercely down on his back.
The blue turtle stops for a moment only to rest before,
He moves on leaving only a trail of,
Footprints in the dust.
Copy right October 2, 1996
Reason for writing:
None given
Birth sign: Not entered
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