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Rated: E · Poetry · Environment · #2210506
Two of us stuck in traffic during inclement weather.
Sitting in traffic,
inclement weather,
looking for something to do.
Rush hour, escaping from the city;
I’m glad you’re with me now,
I love to hold your hand.
We’re on the freeway, love,
but we are barely moving;
whichever way we look,
it is an auto land.

  The light of day is now receding,
  I’m glad we have a new CD.
  The motor runs, but we are stuck,
  I cannot wait till we are back at home
  so I can work on my truck.
  Despite this weather,
  despite this traffic sea,
  it’s just you and me.


So bored, like we are in a prison;
the wind blows icy rain our way.
Give me just one more kiss--
who cares if they look on.
The miles flow like clay;
we’ve crept a few more inches.
Sometime we’ll find our way;
perhaps it will be dawn.

  The apathy is now exceeding;
  we both are eyeing the back seat.
  My motor runs and you are here.
  I do not care that there are many cars--
  let’s make them all disappear.
  Despite this weather,
  despite this traffic sea,
  it’s just you and me.

 

32 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
1-17-20
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2210506