Traffic washes around you
rain drops pelt your windshield
the radio man chatters
as you shift into next gear
checking your rearview mirror
and gunning the gas for the opening
Take life from here
one car at a time
down dark tunnels
across windy bridges
through gas-dry deserts
and into dead valleys
where you lie
in a soft bed
staring at blank walls
waiting for the endless sky
to unfold.
Some of our best images come from our dreams.
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That is for sure!
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Nice poem. It ended well.
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Thanks Joanne! Thanks for reading and for the comment! 🙂
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Very nice!
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Thanks Liz!!!
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You’re welcome!
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I feel this too.
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Thanks rugby!!!
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