Honey Drops and Pen Stains

Little Road

The Little Road

The little road was long

And winded down through the fields.

Tress and stacks of hay surrounded each side

Making light and dark impossible to distinguish.

No living being walked that road anymore.

Cars struggled against its terrain

And modern highways were better anyway.

No metal scraps littered the highways;

Nor were there rusted moonshine stands,

Left to rot by their jailed or dead owners.

Little squirrels or rabbits didn't hide on highways

And neither did people in camo with guns.

Swamps with snakes didn't belong

And neither did alligators.

Fallen and rotting logs have never seen the cold pavement.

Highways didn't have quiet fish swimming in ponds

Or birds of vast colors in trees.

And it had heavy traffic.

The little road didn't have cell towers,

Or speeders,

Or stop lights.

It didn't have people who rush,

Or people who yell and honk their horns

It didn't have large, meaningless billboards,

Or construction sites that stayed up way too long.

No, the little road didn't have a lot,

But what it had was enough.