Day 85: Miss (a poem to the rhythm of travel)
long roads
dark miles
yellow seconds ticking
like blinks of eyes and days gone by
and how the years are pricking
my mind
with memory
do we miss what we never were?
was it the curve or the bend
that led down a dead end
on the track
and do we want to go back?
far from home, the table calls
with scents of smoke and sage
nearer we come and courage stalls;
is it side effect of age?
I missed the answers to these questions.
I miss the home that I can rest in.
and warmth of a fire within
I’ll place the hearth in my belly,
beg the four winds to tell me:
which way?
which way?
which way?
long roads
dark miles
get me home.
2 Replies to “Day 85: Miss (a poem to the rhythm of travel)”
This hits home, Jamie. Thank you for your bravery. For your blog. I don’t comment often, but please know that I follow. Thank you for sharing. Thank you for your friendship years ago in a time we (well, maybe just “I”), felt the “yellow seconds ticking.”
O, my girl! Thanks so much for this comment and for sharing the days (now and then) with me. You still have my friendship, as clear as it ever was. When those dark miles bring you ’round here, know you’ve got some hot coffee, killer toast, and a good friend to croon ’round campfires with, ready and waiting.