The journey

Standing tall in the lane, nothing but me and the asphalt.
The black color absorbing the heat,
it burns the soles of my blue-teal hue shoes.

Somewhere in the end of it, pines seem to grow tall,
rise to touch the wholly violet sky.
Overhead the clouds in white, mimic a smile, back in a blown sky.

I am left with the smell of my burning feet's flesh,
scalded hot, protesting to nothing,
a silent voice.

Nothing ahead of me for long, but two hills.
These are toasted yellow and green.
The wind caresses the grass, lime green.

I follow solitary the path in between them.
Only to get closer to greatness,
nothing but a giant space.

Walking and walking,
as the green meadows turn to yellow.
I come one step closer to the pines that wait to welcome me.

The only thing to come now
is the translucent rain
to cool down my journey.

© Virginia H. Guarddon

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