They're still highways
That take you here,
But they seem less so.
Somewhat more like trails,
A hardpan of sorts,
Beaten through the hills.
They're still streetlights
That bring you to a stop,
Painting the wet streets in red.
Somewhat more like a twin dusk that
Demands hesitation, and patience,
To wait for the green dawn.
Jan 14, 2021
Jan 14, 2021 at 11:51 AM UTC
They're still highways
That take you here,
But they seem less so.
Somewhat more like trails,
A hardpan of sorts,
Beaten through the hills.
They're still streetlights
That bring you to a stop,
Painting the wet streets in red.
Somewhat more like a twin dusk that
Demands hesitation, and patience,
To wait for the green dawn.
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