Winding Roads Singing
misty morning palisades
babbling brook cold spring
heavy merge ahead
flowing willows weep
fall foliage treats
hues of purple
a touch of red
sounds of led zeppelin
the who the dead
nothing rhymes with orange
in these rolling New York hills
so much breeze through my hair
so many faces past my eyes
over thousands of miles
from my dreams I hear your cries
Oh Delhi; succulent crisp
jewel of my youth
Hail hail urban sprawl
for passing you by
thumb leveled on winding
roads singing, I am free
I am young I am wild
memories of a one cow town
puts my head in the clouds
plants my feet on the ground
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.
