Dreams of open roads

 

The baby throws her toy to the ground.

A cuddly bear, now collecting dirt and grime.

Wails and teary eyes as the wheels go round.

Mother absently flicking the pages

of her magazine.

Selling fantasies of celebrity.

Lost in a daydream

of open roads and places unseen,

where she isn't viewed as a burden

or a bad person,

she looks out of the windscreen.

 

Long haired, headphones on.

Guy at the back mouths along

with his favourite songs.

Like he is reciting silent poetry

and hoping no one can see.

He dreams of open roads.

Where he can be as loud

as he wants to be.

Let his voice be heard,

not just in his head,

but in the air instead.

 

Bingo, thinks the older lady.

Her day out, it gets so lonely,

she hasn't seen her friends lately.

She reminisces.

Remembers the old days in this city,

the kisses.

This used to be a dance hall,

now gone, no more curtain calls.

No more discotheques,

now flats, apartment complex.

She dreams of open roads,

where she can live at long last

not get stuck in the past.

 

Driver wishes he was anywhere else,

anywhere but here.

this dreary seat, this windscreen,

this smoky city and its charcoal sheen.

The same roads over and over,

on autopilot,

 he watches the road from his enclosure.

School children on their way home,

parents coming to meet them.

Afternoon drinkers in the local pub

In hours they will become passengers, 

joining his little club.

Bell rings again irritatingly,

a teen playing with his sanity.

Waking him from dreams of open roads,

where he isn't carrying a passenger load.

 

 

Thanks for reading

Peace, Love and Poetry

Kyle