Roads of Nowhere

 
I first found you under a bridge, picking up
fallen stars. The dust on your shoes shone
with half stories.


You smiled and shared a warm cup of you.
Filled with anywhere, I drank, wanted
you to pour more.


Your hands told me of today's cider presses, pear
trees and hot soup meals. You kept your yesterdays
and I kept mine.


We flowed into each other outside clocking minutes,
forgot the calendar of names. Our blood pumped;
in days, out nights.  


The skies spun around, the moon stared, blinked but
autumn promises never keep. We chased summer,
corn fields and trails.


Our history is gone, ground into the southern road slipping
past. You know, baby, what they say... tramps like us
were born to run.






Entered in Miki's 'Born to Run' comp