Lane of Fog

Settling downward, the road’s early haze

Unable to see height of trees as I gaze

The world now shadowy, and dim, and shy

Seamless grey stretches across the chilled sky.

 

A lone truck waits ahead of a home

For quite some time, it has yearned to roam

But, abandoned, it has remained lost

With auburn paint flaking under scintillating frost

 

One future dawn, the truck just may

Ride down the street to its alluring conclusion

Like me, once I prepare to embark, begin,

But not today, this frigid day.

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741