The Long Road

The road’s so long

And punctuated with traffic lights.

Just once, I’d love to sail straight through,

Unhindered in my flow.

But no!

Red lights beset me every chance they get.

Still, each stop gives me a chance to think;

Not needing to worry about gears or hazards,

Just watching the lights for my chance to move

And thinking up poems.

Like this.

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One thought on “The Long Road

  1. Your poem reminds me of one of my loons:

    At the stoplight,
    no poem awaited me.
    Only when driving.

    At one point I decided to carry a tape recorder, but that didn’t work. There is something about speaking with our fingers that comes from a more intuitive part of the brain, or soul, or whatever intuition is.

    Enjoyed your poem…J

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