A3, early morning,
mon to fri-day, same route,
we speed limits.
our shapes and restraints alike.
soaked with dark-gray tunes we drive &
deep wrinkles round tired eyes,
heads heavy with to-do’s,
the sun – left years ago.
our morning darkness has no
sparks and shades
as headlights cut the distance
and maybe all our music, all our sighs
would scribble history if played
high volume, same-time, open windows
but this, we never do,
muted sighing and hushed we play
our silence sprinkles cold on rough concrete,
paints asphalt wet & dark with worker blues
and prints lonely road marks on our deep blue,
ocean yearning souls
i’m linking up with One Stop Poetry – you should come and join us, meet some fantastic people over there and dive deep into poetry. Sign up opens today at 5 pm EST