Not all who wander are lost..

I think I miss open roads..
The cold breath of morning air
A gentle breeze in my hair


Give me the rope,
I sure would love to fly,
Looking at everything from the sky:
A river, the mountains, the tallest trees,
The many birds and the many bees.

I don’t have a destination.
I don’t have a care.
So which ever road I choose to wander,
Will take me there.

Over the ocean, along the sand.
I have to grip tightly with my little hands.
I need to travel just a little more!
Before I put my feet back on the floor.

I cannot give up this young heart of mine, I think it will grow much older in future time.
But for now I just want to be young and free, sharing the world with everything I see.



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