Facebook kindly reminded me that three years ago today I was on holiday in Barcelona. I must admit I would love to be on holiday right now but sadly that is unlikely to happen this year. So I have gone for a poem about the desire to travel.
The poem is by Edna St Vincent Millay who was an American poet and feminist activist, living in the first half of the twentieth century.
Travel The railroad track is miles away, And the day is loud with voices speaking, Yet there isn't a train goes by all day But I hear its whistle shrieking. All night there isn't a train goes by, Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming, But I see its cinders red on the sky, And hear its engine steaming. My heart is warm with the friends I make, And better friends I'll not be knowing; Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take, No matter where it's going. Edna St Vincent Millay