Nothing much to define the universe
that holds the certainty whether she belongs
so she wishes for a world somewhere
where long letters are written to make flowers bloom
where love mysteries are pondered for a hundred years,
always spellbound by some gracious moon
and the morning sun that smiles in her room
Her very being the only home she’s come to know
sheltering a timid heart that’s now grown old
Though she’s bound to meet the twilight soon
the promise of unknown regions
glint to be discovered
This much alive, intense and present
the vagabond is set free forevermore.
— geena, june 2017
Bohemian Sentiments 
