Why I walk alone... (*poem alert)

I get asked all the time why I travel alone
(and not even mention my husband in the stories.) 
Quite simple I like to be on my own.
I like to get scared and solve my own problems.
I like to stop and cry at the sight of beauty
For an hour: a painting or a mountain or 
just any sight of natural splendour, really, bresingary*.
My husband waits for me at the end of every story
He likes to hear how I got happy or how I got sad
And look at the photos I've taken. I take many. I feel a lot within, too.
That is why I like to walk alone.

(And also he is not that crazy.)


*bresingary means something so awesome you want to cry