My Truckdriver
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Driving at night, with the window down
Air in my hair, hands on the wheel
Him driving by me, there to reveal
His face clearly visible in the middle of town
Passing by him, I was startled and yearning
Wishing for the chance to say hello to him
He was my uncle and I felt it all on a whim
Even though I hoped, his head wasn’t turning
How could I be seeing him tonight,
Without a doubt his image in the window
Reminding me why I was stuck in limbo
Him the truckdriver – mostly out of sight.
He had given me so much of his heart
Pieces I still carried and pulled out often
Yet I had seen him there, lying inside a coffin
Tonight, I was haunted by the love he did impart
Copyright © Regina Mcintosh | Year Posted 2019
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