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Mar 2012
I haven't heard another voice in three whole days
I soak in the suns rays
Driving with all the windows down
Trees look like blurs of green and brown
I'm taking back roads that people have forgotten
On the trees the fruit grows rotten
It's just me and the warm radio static
Talking to myself has become almost automatic
I get this feeling, one that I can't explain
I stop the car on the corner of Old Sandwich Road and Norway Lane
I get out of the car, my feet uncertain as they hit the ground
I don't hear a single human sound
Only the wind dancing on the leaves
And the sun touching everything it perceives
The birds talking in the slow summer air
A song leaves my lips like a signal flare
It was wordless song
It felt like it would belong
In the endless choir of the trees
My hair is ruffled by the breeze
As if the forest was patting me on the head
I get back in the car and drive the endless road ahead
Patrick McCombs
Written by
Patrick McCombs  26/M
(26/M)   
535
 
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