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A short story about what compels one to travel

Submitted:Apr 25, 2013    Reads: 20    Comments: 3    Likes: 1   

It is not the road rich with tracks, it is not the cliffs fraught with cracks. It is not a feeling of unconquerable confinement, it is not the hope of intimate entwinement. It is not the thought of beaches white, it is not the evening sunlight It is not a pretentious, petty escapade nor is it a journey that ought to be made, It is the handshake, the eyes, the forging new ties It is the warmth and the smile; the "stay for a while" It is the words spilled en masse for each moment to pass It is each second and minute and the people within it that is what calls me CVP


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Other writing by Cornelius Von Plum The Call


Travel, Poetry

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