Not All Who Wander Are Lost: Poem / Brooke Battersby

Not All Who Wander Are Lost: Exploring Budapest One Coffee at a Time

The morning sun rises and the streets outside beckon me to come down

My tired eyes beg for another minute of rest,

But, in my head, the thought of coffee swirls around.

Quietly, I shimmy out of bed, brush my teeth and get dressed.

Upon my first breath of dawn’s crisp air, I am enveloped in peace.

These still moments before the world awakens surround me.

Alone in these foreign streets, all of my fears and doubts cease.

I look around and consider my options, all roads lead to serendipity.

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Yesterday I went to the left, the day before to the right

Today, the road leading straight ahead calls out my name.

At one point, this feeling of being alone would frighten me like night.

Today, the desire inside me to explore burns bright like a flame.

I stumble upon an old wooden door and etched above, I see the word “kávé.”

It’s funny how one word has become my security, my “welcome home.”

I order my latte, decide on a new pastry and find a seat where I plan to stay.

Today’s chocolate croissant pairs perfectly with my strong espresso full of steamy foam.IMG_1162

In the midst of new places, new faces, new streets and new eats, one thing remains:

My heart beats most passionately when I’m lost on my own, warm cup in hand.

Espresso beans and coffee grounds take me back home, caffeine in my veins.

Familiar flavors trickle down my throat and warm my soul even in a foreign land.

Some find exploration in a group on a tour,

Yet others find their adventure as they roam through the stores.

Me? I find my home away from home in strange cobblestone roads and hidden cafés.

These secret adventures, like the marks on a calendar, help me to remember my days.

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