To Be A Travel Writer

Fingers fluttering across the keyboard

Pen in hand

Paper crisp

Inspiration flowing

As the sun sets in the west

On a foreign coastline

A scarred hand meets mine

With a callused grin

As words tumble from desert lips

To weave a story

Never before told

A few dollars in pocket

To carry through the week

Endless nights revising

Gallons of coffee

Numb fingertips

Stalled mind

Surging of adrenaline

Another chapter finished

A rickety bus travels down an unpaved road

Three seats remain empty

I contemplate the metaphor

Destination, unknown

Lesson, unlearned

Story, told.