A ghostly white guardian glowers nearby
its crater marked countenance scanning the sky
I wish to gain speed but the car in the lead
doesn't know what it's like to be fleetingly freed
the august assembly of everything green
is friendly and waves to my moving machine
as smoky cloaked cleavage bestudded with pine
entices the hungry observer to dine
but how many signs can a lonely road bear
when failure to yield means no shoulder is there.
Are You Reading Me?
2 comments:
A fine verse this in a small package.
Like it very much.
Thanks Dave I was enjoying the scenery on my way to band practice.
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