Wandering Words - Clement Portlander - Bog

In distant lands where time takes flight, Whispers ride the winds from morning to night. Words born of wanderlust, free to roam, Ethereal echoes find and make a home. A gentle sigh, a tale woven in silk, Caressing hearts with dreams of milk; The traveling tongue, a weaver of stories, Unfolding mysteries in unknown territories. Languages dance in harmonious delight, Melodies of cultures blending day and night. From mountains high to valleys low, The power of language, the world will know. Through valleys of silence the tongue does roam, Seeking connections in each wandering nomad's home. A tapestry of voices, an intricate weave, Ethereal echoes, the world does conceive.