Truck Stop

That Tuesday night
she flipped the sign
and never made it home
someone called in sick
that fatal night
and left her all alone

Her face still haunts
those trusting eyes
too easy to accept
that people hide
private things
you rarely would expect

It's a busy place
in constant flow
filling up their tanks
she smiles at them
hands them change
and closes off with "thanks"

They find her bones
in an April thaw
on Meadow Crescent Road
but the trail keeps fading
with absent clues
that melt away with the snow.