In the desert out West. The rains didn't come . . . . .
I used to worry
About the future
But it’s 100 miles away
Down a rarely traveled
Dusty, lonely road
My mind drifts
Back to a memory
Lost in an old
Cardboard box
Pulled from the shelf
Missed opportunities
Wrong turns taken
Leaving doubt
In a broken heart
It’s so hot these days
I drink dust
From the rocks
My worn leather boots
Trudge through parched glass
I wander, lost
Down that old road
The crumpled, curled map
Long weathered
Well beyond finding my way
Drifting in melancholy
Beginning to wonder
My bearings forlorn’d
Annoyingly distracted
Locked in a heated ripple
Just another page
In your history’s future
There are no guarantees
There are no alibis
Or just another wrong turn
Can it be
This is where it all ends
Or is it the beginning?
Kindred nomads
Wrapped in maddening thirst.
6 comments:
There's nothing barren in the words. Great write.
Rob, sometimes those 100 miles cand be tough going can't they?
You told it like it is.
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Oh yes, I can negotiate this comment form without resortng to OpenId. Wish they were all pop-ups or the whole page comment form like mine. ;)
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Mind drifts....in future and past. Interesting words.
stunning imagery.
:)
my favorite line:
The crumpled, curled map
Long weathered
Well beyond finding my way
very much what i have been feeling lately
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