Going Nowhere
August 21, 2008
Leaves whisper as squirrels rustle around me.
The wind moans a soulful tune and birds fly high in the branches of the trees.
Here I sit by this country road, going nowhere.
Along walks a man with fair looks and quiet eyes that I do not know
But his warm smile blankets me in kindness as he walks on by.
His steps seem almost slow motion, yet with each one he grows more distant.
And here I sit with the whisper of the leaves and the rustling of the squirrels
By this country road, going nowhere.
