Somewhere

I really don’t want to be here.

You can’t smell the sea, hear the gulls,

or feel the wild throbbing

which moves with the tides—

a longing which can only be quenched

by a salt breeze

and the solitary rocks along the coast.

Here, seated where I am,

the people do not think beyond

the "here and now".

Strangely, they are satisfied.

The coin that I wear about my neck—a piece of eight—

serves as a reminder

that there exists more than this

mundanity.

That, somewhere, a person can live

free and unfettered;

where friends are true,

and adventure is always a possibility.

Where you steer by the stars

and by your heart,

and Fiddler's Green lies at the end

of the journey.