Music On the Road

The headlights bathe the road ahead; The night echoes the diesel engine’s drone. I listen to the radio and wish That I were with my wife and kids, at home. But hauling freight’s what pays the bills, And it’s become the only way I know. I shake my head and breathe a sigh, While eighteen wheels make music on the road. A slow, cold rain is falling down; I pray it stops before it starts to freeze. These mountain roads are bad at best, And they are near impossible on nights like these-- But at the end of this long run, They’re awaiting the delivery of my load. The windshield wipers beat in time While eighteen wheels make music on the road. I watch the mile posts flashing by, As midnight ushers in another day. I scratch my head, and try to guess How many times I’ve traveled down this same highway. I think of children tucked in bed, And the warm, sweet wife who waits for me, I know. I feel a lonely ache inside, While eighteen wheels make music on the road.