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*Image of Global Positioning System by Rankr.

All Roads Led to Hell, Until GPS

An attempted refolded map resolved itself against a ruffled sort,
the championed driver -- not of cars,
GPS constants a dashboard as a storm flit to nonexistence,
ado about the guy at the wheel flits with it,
chuckles as dawn speaks and sunrise glints at a trustful eye,
an oiled motor now runs cooly, slightly fresh tire scarring rolls on,
a car stops on the side of a country lane,
an idling engine idles a bevy of doves perched on a limb,
opts for a U-turn as an all clearance was taken,
a mouth forces years of hardened cells upward, donning anew emerges,
whistling attuned to a suite medley of birdsongs while fingers push a fedora near a car ceiling,
stops at the florist, the candy store, and longer at the jewelers,
sounds of a car parking in the drive,
a woman wiping to dryness look sees a mirror,
a throat clears and coughed to a soothing, and hair is being fussed,
a trembling stand eases to absence, a door being faced down a hallway opens,
a bouquet of roses, a candy box, a gift box, and a rugged man fall in unison fronting an entry doorway,
weeping in glad tidings calls outwardly, "Look what my GPS said!" a shocked woman rushes forward to kneel,
The solid man raised his GPS to her ever-widening eyes,
GPS read out, "God Promises Salvation,"
Two souls lived contentedly until their hereafter in bliss.

2022 August 18

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