A poem about a trip down an old highway just to see where it leads.
Road trip down
highway 99 the place
just showed up
out of nowhere.
Not on any map or GPS. My man
and I rejoiced at the sight
this uncharted spot.
An old homestead—abandoned now,
but littered with shacks, two barns,
and a house. Inside each one, like
graves in a cemetery, everything
was covered with layers of time.
A long-forgotten world before
technology, now lay dusty
at our fingertips. We are free
to explore treasures, old bottles
rusted tools and rotting wood.
We wander taking pictures then walk
out to our car, pulling water
from the cooler, laughing,
we head back down the road.