To be a vagrant

Apr 2025

Ah, to be a vagrant,
Always dancing in the sun.
I'd live each day in peace,
And every single day I'd run,

Through quiet fields,
Brimming with infernal daisies,
Yellow petals in my toes,
And the wind always changing.

Towards my home it blows,
See, I live right here,
Right where you're standing,
My home is always near.

But instead I drown in paperwork,
And coarse documents cut my skin.
I'd prefer a warm neck of red,
And to sleep with a face full of grin,

Yes, resting under the shade of an oak,
While all time passes by,
And leaves me in my little spot,
Where to this very day I shall lie.