The road was always to me
What a good night’s sleep
Was to the people of slow times.
I lived for sleepless nights
And sweaty hitch hikes.
The roar of the engine was
A dragon breathing fire
It set every part of me alive
And currents shivered through me.
I lived for endless drives
Shallow ponds were no more mine
I waited for the strangers’ dive.
Bated breath, poor singing
June dust storms, heavy breathing
Walking down lonely highways
Leather jackets, soiled boots
Dusty faces and empty water canteens
A bottle of jack and
No signs in sight.
The pulse of adventure
Raced through my veins.
In the course of my dreams
I walked canyons and riversides.
In the depth of darkness
I caught hail in Jersey
And sunsets in Texas.
It was all alone in my room
That I painted my dreams.
I wheeled over to the window
Stared into the same street I saw everyday
The same trees and the same shadows.
I was living it, you see
On canvas and paper
In the corner of my poorly lit room
Humbled by suburbs and silence
I was living in the bustle through my brush.
How can you be so good. Like how.
LikeLike
Amazing Rishiti!!! 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person