That shimmering country road
Was a mesmerizing sight,
Contorted by oppressive heat
And slithering to the horizon.
Not a landmark in any direction,
Just the road signs, my two cents,
Total peace of mind
And an old guitar in the backseat.
I strummed in that pitch darkness
A song for my own satisfaction.
I have chased that feeling since
As I am tempted by the rush of life.
I have never known greater freedom
Than to make art for myself alone,
Hundreds of poems I wrote
In an old notebook and burned,
Trivial, and yet so meaningful
To set them free. If I’m lucky,
Perhaps their ashes floated
On the breeze to a faraway land
Where they’ll one day fertilize
A tree I’ll never sit in the shade of.
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