
The red back pack was already second hand
bought cheap from an opp shop by a hiking man
it’s straps were a bit frayed
it’s colour a bit faded
the brand now out of favour
but it still had years of wear
there were pockets for liquidity
and pockets for your water
pockets for snacks
and a wear pocket for nadir
but if you kept that pocket closed
there was nothing there to fear
there were pockets for your clothing
pockets for rain and sleeping gear
there was a pocket for a journal
and a way to quickly reach a camera
because recording of life’s journey
involves equipment for ephemera
it had seen through a lot of windows
it had been through many a door
it had heard so many a tales
it couldn’t remember them all anymore
it had walked the tracks and trails
of many countries around the globe
such that it's experiences
never felt far from home
but it was ready for new adventures
to be up and about again
it was only a matter of time
before the hiking man said when
Poetry days #02.
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not use AI. I do not want AI to use my work.
“I love to go a-wandering along the mountain track, and as I go, I love the sling my knapsack on my back…”
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