The Wanderer

while rummaging through my old stuff, i found this little poem i wrote on March 3, 1988, three days after my 20th birthday. funny how it sounds like it's just been written now; held true for me then, still holds true for me now--

I am the wanderer
whom nobody owns
And owns nobody
but her self.

I am the wanderer
who has no home
but the hearts of those
she has come to kow
and the lives of those
she has come to touch.

I am the wanderer
who loves everybody
and whom everybody will love
because they must.

I am the wanderer
always searching
temporarily finding
then searching again.

I am the wanderer
born to be alone.