“When the traveller is weary, she takes a seat wherever she can manage” Gun Roswell
Blue seating, in a far away land
The long time and now weary, traveller, had finally made it through
To this, far away and strange land filled with all things cool…
Well, at least, imagined the place, from the recesses of the mind
What ever was there, a faint memory even, at this point, was just fine
Because, as it mostly is done these days, all around the world
In reality, the only place you could totally off to get hurled
Would be that odd space, between your own sofa and the fridge
Never mind, going outside and crossing over, say, a tall bridge!
But, as usual, I tend to digress, so without further stress
Back to the topic of travelling, especially one done, in an armchair
In the comfort, of your own small or it might even big, lair
The images of beaches running on end, with blue skies and sun shines
Where each and every single day, life running, to its own accord
Never mind, that while, in a foreign land, for you, no chores!
Well, that is, since usually time away spent, is supposed to be some kind of holiday
When one actually, and physically, goes away and, in another and most likely rented home stays
But, enough of the commentary, as this poem is not going so greatly
As it was supposed to be about seating and travelling and going somewhere else, maybe eating
In a restaurant of choosing, yourself completely in the exotic foods emerging
And for that, picking up a respite, like a bench or a chair or similar seating
Then letting someone else do the serving and finally, after a moment, relaxing
Because hey, you just got out here, in this great place, where time stands still
So, for now, the virtual traveller has stopped, in her tracks, taking a breath deep
And finally letting out some of the slack on the chosen, blue and cool looking respite
Rantings Of A Third Kind 