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JOURNEY TO SIMPLER DAYS

Dang it's hot but it don't matter
I've got to escape all the stress,
all the politics, all of the chatter
the discord and intense duress.

So I grab my love and off we go
far away from urban sprawl
to some destinationI don't know
where time's rush slows to a crawl.

Down the road I tensely speed,
shoulders tense behind the wheel
fleeing a world of hate and greed
of poverty and those who don't feel.

Wife turns on an oldie station
and the truck is filled with younger days
easing brow's furrow and consternation
slowing our rush through summer's haze.

Until at last forest surrounds us.
Mixed woods guard both sides of the road.
A breeze kicks up and that's a plus.
I slowly shed a heavy load.

Tires growl as road turns into gravel.
We go about another mile.
With each curve more worries unravel.
I glance at her and we both smile.

At last we reach a destination
a river where a covered bridge once was
that was consumed by a conflagration.
To this day they don't know the cause.

But the water here flows slow and wide
and on this stifling summer day
it's cold as a tiny mountain seep
with a bottom of mixed sand and clay.

So we strip until we're almost bare
run to the shore and jump right in
splashing and laughing without a care;
we two making quite a din.

We tire and wade to a huge rock
in water deep as my lame knee.
Boulder smooth and void of any pock
and warm, for a rock it's pretty comfy.

Lying there in the warm sun
as a flock of geese think their way by
downstream a deer flashes its dun.
We talk and grin as we both dry.

There in that smallish foothills river
just beyond its narrow beach
surrounded by water that made us shiver
we found peace we thought was past our reach.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

Good to have brought you along. Know what's kind sad? young people today will eventually think snoop dog belongs on some oldie station

author comment

The new music can't hold a candle to the old stuff........or maybe I'm just an old fogey

author comment

your poem and comments by Teddy reminded me of classic rock, witch I love. beautiful poem, too!

*hugs, Cat

"The Book of Styx" can be ordered and purchased on line at:
http://eddystyx.mythramuse.com/

Thanks for taking time to drop by

author comment
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