70 miles per hour The highway rushes by Careless open window wind Caught like a kite Lifted to the sky Open, it dances Twirling and twisting Swaying in slow motion It's invisible smile, contagious As it flies away free So lovely as it makes it descent Swirling in the breeze Slowing as it realizes its fate At journey's end it lays Dusty and crumpled Forgotten and used Left by the side of the road Unsightly, scorned Torn and stabbed As it journeys on Lifted again just briefly As it comes to rest At the bottom of a bin
Written as in response to a challenge for Poetic Dreamers. The inanimate falling item I chose to write about is a plastic grocery bag.