Perception

Passer by the highway side,

Alone for the duration of the ride,

Can’t you stop to pick me up?

Burning rubber kicks up the dust,

And I have to turn my head again.

Passer by the highway side,

Riding the distance with such pride,

No time to stop and help me out?

Each second ticks away with doubt,

And I have to turn my head again.

Passer by the highway side,

Are you the one who will say “Hi?”

Able to stop and lend a hand?

Kindred people are in great demand.

And instead of having to turn again,

I open the door and climb right in:

“Hello,” I say, returning the grin.

“Haven’t we met before, my friend?”

~

DBrown Fisher

© Feb 1994