Wanderlust

My eyes have been to Egypt,

where intricate details within ancient drawings depicted stories of battles and Queens,

and how they loved and lost everything,

but never lost sight of their femininity or ambition in the process.

My lips have been to France,

putting smiles on french pale cheeks and making them blush,

sitting on the quaint hotel balcony while dipping Baguettes in bitter coffee,

as my tired lover laid sound asleep within my white dove colored sheets.

My hands have been to Italy,

fingers compressing into dough to make a home made pizza,

spices and family cookbooks spread throughout the kitchen,

as the sunset puts an end to another scorching summer day.

My brain has been to England,

capturing moments with mental pictures,

remembering how they grab their tea cups with one raised pinky,

while the rain continued to play sonatas against old cottage windows,

knowing I could never live a day without it.

My ears have been to Scotland,

where I'd recognize the distinct sound of the bagpipes in folk songs on the radio,

and how it filled me with the urge to run across an open meadow of jubilance,

as wavering notes run wild in the whims of the wind.

My hips have been to Central America,

where rhythm and melodies were ingrained into your blood,

every word was sensual poetry and every touch made you feel at home,

as my hips met with the hands of a friendly stranger.

My legs have been to Asia,

where I learned to never abuse the knowledge I have of Kung Fu and to check my anger infused hands at the door,

feeling at peace while meditating within Buddha's temple,

letting go of old wounds and embracing new beginnings.

My heart has been to Greece,

where you could touch the stones within the buildings and feel their histories overpower your own,

and how it made your heart tighten with dread,

as you swim blind through the deepest of oceans and feel your past mistakes catch up with your recent ones.