the traveller

Often I like to see myself as simply a traveller.

With some purpose I walk through the carpets of the airport,
my black leather bag resting on my shoulder.

I carry nothing much and my bag is hardly cumbersome
though I am constantly moving.
At train stations, I run to arrive on time.
I don't even have ten minutes to waste,
waiting, staring at posters and the litter.
I'm always in a hurry, my throat burned
by sudden rushes of air.

I see myself in hot climates, I see myself in colder ones, too,

wearing sleeveless shirts and sunglasses

or gloves and long coats. I am a traveller.
I'm on some important mission,

so intent is my gaze, my face can easily be read.

Yes, I am traveling for a reason,

it carries me around the world...

to live!