I Cannot Tarry Here

As winter winds do race the clouds
So I must drift on
My feet itching, heart on fire
Eyes hungering for some distant horizon.
Though you beg me, call me,
Your pleas for my relent tug at me
But I was born a wanderer
I warned you from the start.
Though I may ache for you, long for you,
I cannot tarry here.

The End

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