Wanderlust Unchained

That ticket, wrinkled, crumpled in my pocket,

every printed word a spark in the void.

My first flight—who knew I’d feel like a rocket,

soaring beyond all the places I’d cloyed?

Windows misted with dreams, fading light,

I lost my way, but found myself instead,

each unfamiliar face felt like new night,

the pulse of the world was a language unsaid.

No map, no guide, just a heart bold and raw,

the pavement beneath my feet, it felt right.

There’s magic in wandering, free from the law,

as I stepped out, into the wild flight.