Driving Home Poem by The Original Tom Maxwell

Cruising down, the wet highway,
On a rainy, dark Monday night,
The only, few objects I can view,
Are reflections, from my headlights.

My right eye glancing, at the radio,
Watching the pavement, with my left,
Knowing A slip, either side of the lane,
I'm only about, three feet from death.

I notice small dull white dots,
Ahead in A distance, far away,
Start growing, to A large bright glare,
Vehicles approaching, from the other way.

This trip I'm on, A little over an hour long,
As I drive, sorting inspirations, within my head,
Planning to make it home safely, after A long day,
To relax, and dream, as I lay resting on my bed.


Tom Maxwell copyright 2/5/2019 A.D.