I can’t help but feel my heart
is a suitcase,
made for the leaving,
always packed and waiting,
it is
sitting by the door.

Memories of places been once
before are nestled inside
of me,
but space within there
shall always be,
to fill and cram
with so much more.

So if by chance you too have
a suitcase heart like me,
pick it up and take it,
why don’t you,
and carry it with mine.
Let us keep on
go go going,
Let us explore and never stop,
till we’ve rolled and dragged
our suitcase hearts  across
every snowy mountain top.

And when we’re finally opened up,
to be at last unpacked,
all that anyone shall inside see,
is our travel memories,
hoarded by both you and me.
But not shall we regret a thing,
or beg to forgive,
for to travel is to live.

Image via Aysegül Karatekin