First Ride Alone

 

Every day by the roadside

Trailers of thoughts cross by my side.

My mind’s car feels like overtaking with a glide

Heart’s busy breaks are too dry

There it starts ravishing writing ride

Sitting in that serious seat so stern

My hands heatedly burn.

Chain of cheesy charms does turn

Weirdly woo me to yearn

Then I go thrillingly thick

My head’s engine does pick

Wonderfully wrapped words’ wick

Tiring travel it is - neither prompt nor quick.

It involves no lashes no cramps

No one envies nor does any damp

But my car has to brighten many lamps

And cover miles on these writing ramps.