We'll drive
up the winding,
two lane road
all its length;
just you, me,
your luggage,
and my regrets.
In a beat-up, old
Chevy convertible -
with the top down,
the whole way.
Past Hearst Castle,
through Big Sur,
over the gorge
and into Monterey.
Santa Cruz,
Pacifica,
Seaside,
and Half Moon Bay.
We'll navigate
Devil’s Slide
then stop -
and there
in the
shadow
of the
Golden Gate,
is where
I’ll tell you a secret.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem