The radio is on, but I don’t hear it,
It seems so quiet and still as we travel
Down this old familiar highway -
We must have gone down this highway a hundred times.
I stare off into space and my thots launch me
Into another place
The gentle hum of the car seems to hypnotize me that way-
Thots sneak out of their little hiding places,
Creeping out of the dark corners of my mind,
Swirling through my consciousness,
Thots I had long ago put away.
The thots cause me pain,
And joy,
And confusion as I remember something spoken,
Or written, or sometimes just a look.
You turn to me with that puzzled expression on your face,
That worried look that sometimes comes over you-
And ask me what the trouble is.
I want to tell you... the thots are there
On my tongue-Pressing on my teeth,
I open my mouth to speak.
But they scramble and freeze,
And nothing forms in my mouth-
I just smile at you, and say
‘Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart’.
And truly, nothing is wrong,
Just an errant thot that got loose in the quiet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You write well about thots. Hope the muse is hovering... Ax