Travel Poem

Nostalgia (when we passed through Etche) Through the frigid terrain our car sliced Each palm, once a stranger now beckons and sways A wayfarer’s weary feet, trumpet the long-awaited return My gaze, fixed on the window, captures fleeting snapshots. Home, too, yearns for the nomad’s triumphant homecoming As streets whisper tales of an embrace long overdue Here, I declare it, this is home, and I am its herald What rivals…