It is a gypsy’s life

That I lead, from place to place,

Nomadic in deeds,

But, homesick in the heart.

From the frigid climes

Of Adirondacks

To the Arabian sea shore

And Pacific sands

I wandered

Without goal

And without destination,

Searching for something

To anchor me down.

There is no one to wait for

And no one to travel with,

But a lonely sojourner

I remained

In my seemingly

Dreamlike life.

But, does anyone know

The pathos of loneliness

That leaves one shiftless

Like a paddle free boat?