THE JOURNEY HOME

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A trip everyone takes, sooner or later, back to the beginning.

Submitted: November 13, 2006

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Submitted: November 13, 2006

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Remembering is returning,

across the miles or years,

through rain streaked windshields.

Grey places long forgotten,

brought back, sharp and clear,

by the constant singing wiper.

Railroad signals flashing by,

billboards with peeling paint,

strung out like sheets on a clothes line.

Endless barbed wire fences,

criss crossing the flat horizon,

with rusty cruel intentions.

Chicken coops and white garages,

telephone poles smeared with tar,

strung together throughout eternity.

A winding black road,

like a used typewriter ribbon,

streatching out wet before you,

writing the journey home.

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