you arrived on time
but left too soon
for a few days here
to witness our
once-assumed spinster
marry
you came with few bags
unlike visits of the past
accompanied by excess
accustomed to some
princess or
fifth avenue chick
two bags
raven dyed hair
covering grays at twenty-three
and those damned chavs
you complain about in your class
but there is
a seasoned traveler's air
countless nights in hostels
unimpressed by
the gory porn of
the silver screen
she rolls with it all
as simple as a girl
transforming a mess
to something beautiful
with a few flicks of
her wrist
to her hair
what with
wedding hell
breaking loose
she strolled through like nancy sinatra
asking for another drink
dancing with the family
the traditional wrists and
circle pounding steps
claps and yells
chairs above heads
god knows what they are
saying or how old
the song is
but it sure as hell
sounds cool.
and at bars with me
away from family
hounded by friends
she smiled and with
dry british wit
defended herself from
classic american cliche questions
watching hokey cowboys
singing karaoke
and the
countless ski-doo skanks
bopping round
she never leaves
without a story.
i need to save some money.
so, i can have a story.
Floyd Crenshaw
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-beauty-in-travel-my-dear-it-s/
