Gone With The Whim II

I’m itching to ditch it, to flit and to flee, To sail off in syllables over the sea. To vanish in verses, in vowels that hum, To pack up my punctuation—poof! I'd be gone If they ask where I’ve wandered, I’ll whisper to none, For absence is art when the artist has run. The world is a wager I’ll willingly dim— Let life lose it's name when I'm gone with the whim. No compass to counsel, no trail left to trim, No tether to tighten, no reason to swim. Some vanish in daylight, some fade in the dusk, I go where the air tastes of flowers and musk So if you should seek me, don’t search where I’ve been, I’ve folded my footprints, erased all my skin. Some leave with a letter, some leave on a hymn — I left with a laugh… and was gone with the whim