And so we dream of adventuring
And store the travel brochures in shoeboxes on our closet shelves
And fall asleep singing to ourselves “on the shores of Mandalay where the flying fishes play”
And then find a man who has a compass in his heart too
Who hears the seagulls flying over Illinois corn fields
And in time
We take flight
So many places with strange sounding names…
Now in this octogenarian decade
The names still call to us, like sirens on the rocks
All those points not yet seen or touched
But the bed also sets up a steady hum
Home, it hums, home, stay here, be warm
Snuggle down in the sleek sheets
Never move again
Outside in the winter moonlight, the Lorelei sing
Kristin Moyer
January 2024