Yearning for the Unseen

A postcard slips from pages, soft whispers inside,

a land of rich colors where dreams can abide.

The sun sets like honey on vast desert sands,

where footprints of strangers are washed by warm hands.

I picture the markets, the spices, the songs,

the laughter of children where my heart belongs.

Yet here I remain, in a world built of fears,

a wanderer longing for places unseen, lost in years.