ON TRAVEL

     

     

                Some travelers bring solid joy or at least

               A curious shell or tales to tell;

               They love to go to new places and scenes

               Strain and stress they feel none at all.

               Some feel their trip a tiresome task

               Something unavoidable and too hard

               A plaintive load as if they left their heart

               On some blue rock and missed;

               The past like a retreating star

               Mocks at their falling state;

               For them no tales remain

               But vexing hours and disturbing strain.

               They leave their lonely heart

               Scalded like the stone under the scorching sun.

               For them to move means courting pains

               Nor can they stay lone like a tree

               A strange, strange mental state

               Hanging like a static cloud pushed by gales;

               For them no dynamic fleeting colors

               Ever echo within their hearts

               Which they had seen on the rim of sparkling waves

               Or yellow birds, green hills or sylvan rills.

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          3rd July, 2019                          Somaseshu Gutala