There was a road that leads him to go to find a certain 
time where he sits. 

Smokes quietly in the evening by the four legged table 
wagging its (well why not) tail, friendly chap. 

Hears footsteps, looks to find his own feet gone. 

The road absorbs everything with rumors of sleep. 

And then he looked for himself and even he was gone. 

Looked for the road and even that . . .

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 1699 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Russell Edson (Russell Edson Art)
Poem: The Road
Poem of the Day: Feb 7 2007
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