The Wanderer

I wrote this some years ago and just found it in my archives

 

The lonely wanderer strides the road

of life at a steady pace.

His thoughts reflect on the years gone by 

and the past of the human race.

 

He is thinking about his own life,

of all the sights he has seen

of deep blue seas and forests

and of fields of luscious green.

 

He thinks of towering mountain peaks,

of valleys deep and cool ,

he thinks of lakes and deserts

of an oasis’ inviting pool.

 

Who created all this beauty?

Who could the creator have been?

Who possessed such imagination

to create what I have seen?

 

He wanders on and starts to dream,

I know what I shall do

I shall compose a poem 

in order to honour you.

 

I thank you wise creator

who gave us this wonderful land

I shall sing your praises forever

until my life will end.

 

Peter

© pommer 2020
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critique and comments welcome.
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