Like faded paint down middle of highway,
Stilted message—three flimsy lines
To trace adventures, truck trips we made,
Wild wonder on the run…
How could you condense those times?
Season of invincible youth—hope and
Dreams grasped in both hands—hearts
Near-bursting with untamed joy…
We’d sing the shine off the sun;
Pray half-saved prayers that the
Old tires would hold, bald as
Eagles soaring up and far and
No way back…
You left it on your pillow,
Wrinkled notebook page torn:
“We had fun—
You thought it was love,
But what can I say— ”
©Jael Sook, 2017 All rights reserved.
Image credit: Pixabay
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