I am in the scene of scenes
Drifting on the fringes of its centre
All around me seems serene
Yet the surrounds have many dangers when you enter.
I am among the wild filled with varied life
Of names I´ll mostly never know
As even the few I try to learn
I regrettably seem much to quick to let go.
I am but a traveler
Barely scratching at the toe
Though merely a fleeting passer
That I scratch, I am humbled by what it bestows.
© Daniel Breslin