I miss

I miss the old tramp road, that exit, there is still the strength and the will to move somewhere…
I miss that restless journey of the thumbs, when you rush like a greyhound and circumstances force you to stop at every corner.
I miss the cheerful warm spring, and the long days of summer, when the road stretches around the corner, to the horizon
I miss the restless and hurrying city that I was once a part of and that I remember with sleepless nights
I miss the chatterboxes and the silent ones, the drivers who save you when you’re in a hurry and don’t wait for you to return….
I miss my homeland, even though it is no longer waiting for me there, but somewhere there is hope of returning there, even after death.

And I look forward to warmer days and the road of the vagabonds that leads further than far.