pit stop

the noise of the road sounded like lullabies you once heard
smoke turned into letters and tire tracks became verses
dreams written in tissue papers along roadside diners
with ink from coffee stains and grease of those who came before you
you remembered their faces but forgot the names
you remembered the days but forgot the reasons
someday soon the journey will end with a flick of your fingers
but the stories and faces will linger on
until all that was left to do is open the door and let them go


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Common Sense and Whiskey

Modest Adventures Far from Home

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