What could be worth capturing, If not the peccant access to roam That gilded wilderness Of your sun-flecked skin?
Lush mountains and valleys My adrift soul aches to trek, Entwining with the warm terrain, But I could never stay.
Treacherous paths, sloping hills. Coves of misty celadon. Gently winding switchbacks Ascend toward stunning views.
What price of admission Could be so unjust As to bar the adventure Of hugging my lonely tongue to yours?