They say it’s all about the journey, I used to disagree.
Because I loved the destination but now I start to see
That when I finally get there, I think about the time
When we out sang the radio and thought we sounded fine.
The many fights that made dad say “I’ll turn this thing around! ”
And how easy we’d make him laugh to calm him right back down.
The countless times we took a stop to stretch our legs was great,
Because space can get pretty tight when the car is packed with eight.
We all took turns to close our eyes and have a little nap
Or listen to who ever drives get lost and blame the map.
Oh how I love it in the car when we're all having fun
So how I hate when we arrive and all of that is done.
Next to the pool, with earphones in, those times I can't recall
But memories of getting always do stand tall.
So Destination, here we are, but not as a family.
And as for me, I now agree, it’s all in the journey.
This poem is simply marvelous. You delivered wisdom in a manner that was never preachy in tone, and brought to mind some memories of like kind for me. Thank you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Mr. Dogma: Nicely done. You brought back memories of counting cars, collecting license plates, Bottecelli, I Spy, and 'when're we gonna get there? ? ? ' Happy motoring, G