Who travels these lonely roads
With the lights are dimmed to dark?
Where only tails lights are in loads
And each passing light is a mark?
Souls seeking shelter in open road
Hoping to get from where they are
To where they're supposed to load
Bliss of sorts under a blanket of stars
A mix of people from city to city
Waiting in passing time just for it to fly
To reach a place where they'll lack pity
And the only known norm is the sky
Hours go by like hours and seldom
Do things change from the way they look
All that's coined is conundrum
Stuff fit to be entered into a dusty shelved book
Hope and travel live together, a couple
Sometimes in harmony, sometimes not
And on the road that message is subtle
Once hope is caught, one's travelled a lot
And looks back at the gas and mileage
Now the car needs its maintenance
All beautiful price in body's grace of age
Malice invisible in ribbons of innocence
Those who share these lonely roads
Those who thought "when will it end? "
You've got friends, and ones in loads
Till the day you miss out one of the friends.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful price in body's grace of age is amazingly felt here in this wisely penned poem.10