Windshield full of red
Bobbing, weaving, as if one
Holiday highway
markmurphywrites.com
Windshield full of red
Bobbing, weaving, as if one
Holiday highway
They stretch and they run and they test their worth,
These mighty beasts of the sod and the turf.
They jog in and they sprint out of the tunnel to cheers,
An anthem is sung, people pick up their beers.
It’s time for the dance of the giants up front,
While the little ones scurry on their way.
A dashing move here, a crash and a crunch,
Balls carried, thrown, and kicked for play.
The roars once so loud, they fade in no time,
There’s praying and hugging and cries.
It’s all over now, the crowds push to get out,
Our heroes walk off with the prize.
Light breaks through the trees
Clearing away lonely thoughts
Colors returning
Coffee mug at dawn
Pen to paper thoughts unleashed
Only way to write
Thump smack bang scream crash
Family Thanksgiving bash
Silence escapes us
Selflessly serving
Faith hope wisdom correction
Father’s endless love
Gently set fresh paper
between each margin stop.
Crank over cylinder knob,
wait for bail bar to drop.
Hand on carriage return,
align guide pointer at top.
Fingers poised on keys,
Striker swings up with a pop!
Tactile touch on keys
Clicking carriage sliding left
Blissful typewriter
High low jack game out
Strategy toying with luck
Cards are right tonight
Silence on the line
Can you hear what I’m saying
Help me reconnect