Road Trip

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  • Erotic

    Road Trip

    So it wasn't the pastel picture
    of broken pottery I'd expected,
    and the sun was not a great ball
    of ancient wisdom after all.

    But Vegas was still
    a million smiles away,
    and he warmed the car
    with those side-long glances.

    So what if the mountains
    laughed at my wide eyes.
    It was music that lifted
    and carried us further.

    His hand just had
    this way about it;
    Slow and patient,
    insistent and strong.

    I slipped breathless
    in and out of waves
    wishing he'd pull over,
    maybe drive me instead.

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    Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    Nobody’s Poems (3)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    The Optimist 1
    Road Trip -1
    I Know You 1