Time between bus locker journals

In the days.

By foot and bridge

Time between bus locker journals

From a first song,

To a last song,

And all those stories in between,

On a walk to where no roads run,

A set of six strings slung across ones back,

Writing in old weathered journals,

Stored in bus station lockers, from east to west,

Adding a few more written lines each visit,

To perhaps find a song, maybe a verse or two,

Until, again daylight fades and time says,

Put another hundred miles in, find another locker

A tree to sit beneath, a place to sing with a wind,

Whether leaves, rain, or snow delight in falling,

A day’s sun will surely come flooding in sometime,

Soon when those gravel roads desert these highways,

Our feet come as all we got to leave such pebbled dirt and dust,

To find some forest missing between such mountainous places.

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