I move across a never-ending plane,

master of a solitary caravan.

I wander about- wonder about,

how I wish for home.

A place to stop for the night?

Yes, Iíve rested a while,

allowed to camp until dawn.

My welcome runs out at the

whim of the innkeeper.

I travel light and acquire little.

My heart finds it difficult

to rest.

My back grows used to floors

and fields.

No one needs a nomad.