Packing my bags, I’m not ready to go
My shirts are all wrinkled like a face that’s so old
The time flying over like geese for the south
And too soon Goodbye leaves my gaping mouth
Making way for more words: small words, small talk
I sit in the car as eyes follow the chalk-
White lines that dash down vociferous road
I cover my ears as the miles explode.
For: dversepoets.com
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