Freeway Poem by Vera Sidhwa

Freeway


My goodness, what has happened,
To the traffic patterns in this world.
The 405, the 55,
All cars in a whirl.

I used to ride in my parent's car,
A long time ago.
The mystery of these freeways,
Was that the numbers of cars were low.

This world expanded in a second's time.
This world's cultures seem sublime.
Everybody from all nations,
Use these freeways at the same time.

I taught my daughter,
I taught my sun,
How to drive on freeways,
Galore with traffic.

See the 405 and the 55 during work hours.