Vagabond’s Lament (A
Shakespearean Sonnet)
It is time
that I am moving with the whirlwind,
it beckons
my curiosity.
Blow winds
of change, give me your tailwind,
and hands
of fate, no animosity.
Like a
ghost who wanders from town to town
it seems,
quietude was not meant for me.
And when I
have a nervous breakdown,
I will find
my solace beneath a shady oak tree.
Alone am I,
like a ship at sea.
The storm
clouds drum and blow towards me.
The endless
deep, black and briony
the captain
I shall ever be.
And while I
can wander anywhere,
I will
never stay, lest I be ensnared.
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