I Wandered

The home of poet William Wordsworth. I’m jealous of the valleys and lakes that these windows peer out over.

I might not be lonely as a cloud, but I got to wander. In the midst of it all you lose yourself. You get to walk in others’ footsteps; you start to see where their inspirations came from. You hear the floorboards squeak under your step and listen to the soft meow of a content cat. You know that these sounds, the sounds of the present, are also the sounds of the past.

As my feet wandered, my heart ventured further until I was there and my thoughts could not be mapped.


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