I may not have traveled wide,
But dearest, I have traveled deep.
I have not traveled in aeroplanes,
I have traveled in books and sleep.

I have not seen the great cities,
I have not been to continental tips.
But I have seen your head thrown back in laughter,
And cigarette smoke curling from your lips.

I have not smelt the mountain air,
Neither the fragrant forests of pine.
But I have smelt your head of hair,
In that disheveled bed of mine.

I have not touched carpets and silk,
Or ruffled the hair of kids in distant lands.
But I have felt your breath on my face,
And the softness of your hand.

I have not heard the cacophony of bazaars,
I have not heard foreign tongues.
But I have heard you talk for hours,
And every song you have ever sung.

I have not broken bread with strangers,
I have not been to banquets and balls.
But I have tasted the salt of your skin,
To quench my hunger, that is all.

So don't pity my lack of wandering,
Or my rootedness to a single place.
I have traveled the whole wide world, love...
When I run my fingers on your weathered face.