Wanderlust

I am not the man I was before I fell to travel’s spell,

Now in the vein of Ulysses in his yearning for the swell.

I have danced along the architecture of ancient Greece

And in many foreign cafés found my smile and my peace.

I have trekked the jungle valleys and beheld the jaguar’s stare.

I kissed a French girl at Moulin Rouge one evening for a dare.

To be back home is to be subjected to an itch that never ends,

Though I am Fortune’s happy fool in the company of my friends.

Even when our glasses clink in our favorite Downtown bars,

I remember nights in Dublin when I burned against the stars.

My youth is a diptych of love and loss, I’ll crown no other queen.

My concern is only for newer worlds and all their sights unseen.

I am not the man I was before this travel worked to mend,

No worries here; in three years’ time my American life will end.