Saturday, January 19, 2008


Black tar
Milling birds on an electric wire
Mountains sluggishly moving backward
Breeze on her face
Sun burning her arm
Twists and turns that remind of life
She is on the road

Horns that blare
Dust that swirl in and out of a car window
Gears that shift from low to high
Wipers cleaning a view of what’s ahead
An angry lorry driver
Cursing his life
A slow honeymooner

Tiny shop and smiling old tooths
Filter coffee that cost few coins
Biscuits I ate when I was a kid
Winds from the sea smelling of salt and fish
She is on the road
The road that goes no place
Showing her the world


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home