Alcan Fever
Tears in her eyes
with saddened heart,
she hugs her man,
soon he'll be hauling his rig
along the dusty, winding
highway of the north,
he's got the Alcan fever.
After hugs and kisses
and promises to call,
he starts his rig and heads
down the road sighing as
he looks at her 5 X 7
matte-finished photo in his cab,
he's got the Alcan fever.
With miles behind him
he feels fatigue and loneliness,
his shiny Peterbuilt loses
its luster to the grime and
toil of the roadway filled with
potholes and hairpin turns,
he's got the Alcan fever.
First haul unloaded and
another one to go he calls
his woman and tells her to
keep the coffee warm for
soon he'll be at their front
door wanting and loving,
he's got the Alcan fever.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
