09-26-2016, 01:23 AM
Sunday Drive
We pass ivy bearded graves,
roadside beer cans glinting tribute to a whipping sun,
hundred-year old oaks transmogrified to unformed pews,
and ripples end in a small pond.
We claw relentlessly at thoughts too deep for tears,
capturing a minute within twenty pictures.
We pass cheesy pubs
festooned in Toscano Bacchus busts.
Fall is here, and summer's over.
The autumnal carcass of a withered fly adorns the windshield,
in a smog and dust-filled wake.
We pass ivy bearded graves,
roadside beer cans glinting tribute to a whipping sun,
hundred-year old oaks transmogrified to unformed pews,
and ripples end in a small pond.
We claw relentlessly at thoughts too deep for tears,
capturing a minute within twenty pictures.
A Jalopy carries us with cybernetic wheezing,
leaving a smog and dust-filled wake.
We pass cheesy pubs
festooned in Toscano Bacchus busts.
Fall is here, and summer's over.
The autumnal carcass of a withered fly adorns the windshield,
a Jalopy carries us with cybernetic wheezing,
and the summer-tide beer cans disappear in a smog and dust-filled wake.