Experiences, Poetry, Thought

Roads Traveled

Sometimes my stones keep me up at night
They shower me in a silvery blue glow
Like the light from the soft sliver new moon
Subtle, but still there
And I awake in the morning wondering where I’ve been.

On the road a few days ago
I planted a seed of things to do
People to see
Places to go
And dismissed them as pipe dreams not meant for me {yet}.

But then, like the magic antique wand
A quick wave brought me down the road
Roads I used to absolutely adore
Covered in sunflowers and cider and folklore.
Roads with houses like gingerbread mansions
Painted purple and pink and teal
And the sunlight that set the mountain stage
Was almost too pretty to be real.

I love these roads.
I love the old gray haunted Bennington mansion
That somehow has a car parked in the drive
I love the faded signs for cheese and donuts
Treasures and junk and fancy old chairs
I love these places I’ve been
I love the girl who used to go there.

And I remember the day you found your hat
(You didn’t know you’d lost it yet!)
And we swore it was too steep a price to pay
And now here we are – God as my witness
I will bury you in it if I must
If – when – I see that day.

I travel those roads sometimes in my dreams
With the winding river skirting between
The New York and subtle Vermont line
Weaving in and out and around
Whether they are crystal clear dreams or somewhere in between
I remember those roads

So happily.

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