A saunter on a beaten track

Where many a step had passed

Some grazers, some travellers

Some lovers, some loners

Each had a story unasked

And came upon that supine trunk

Where many a weary took rest

The lilies and daisies on the mountainside

Had seen the weather’s best

Each turn of spur brought a different view

Each thicket varied in the trees that grew

The wanderer wandered

Flushed with it all

His wanderlust seemingly

Remained his sole call

And then chanced upon a home derelict,

Where many a children may have grown I predict

The roof had caved in,

The bricks were bare

The brunt of many a seasons

Was indubitably there

The wanderer, tread silently

Through the parlour and rooms

Empty window panes

And grates, spoke many volumes

Of what may have been

A family home

Where the clinking of glasses

And giggling and gurgles

Palpable yet in monochrome

The wanderer wandered more,

To quench his wanderlust

Though Paradoxically inappropriate

So wander on he must

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