Matching Scars (Roots) Poem by Timmy Tubbs

I hang my arm out my window in your summer time
Letting the wind be the judge of the flow
My hand rises and falls to your tone
Trees roll by at the speed of light
I am thinking of what holds them to the green
I find myself jealous of their roots tonight

Questions slip through my hands and peek at my eyes
They are trying to tame this new guy
He is wild with his new life
Bucking to every smile that shimmers on a street
A greet turns into a meet, and ends with walking feet
New friends with a firm shake of the hand
And I myself, begin to grow some roots
I myself, begin to become real man