The Winding Road

The Winding Road

I travel to work on a winding road that has curves and
banks and rivers that make the fog crawl across the road.

The road passes a few houses, and goes through a village,
but everything is quiet. There are only a few cars and no school buses.
I feel like I am the only one in the entire world out at that time of morning.

I haven’t had enough sleep and the heat blowing in the car makes it hard to stay awake.

I sing.

I talk to myself.

I roll down the window, even though it’s only about 10 degrees outside. 

I just went over the yellow line and that scared the daylights out of me. 
I’m not having any trouble staying awake now.

One of those early mornings there was a real bad storm,
and as I rounded a curve, Bam! A tree had fallen across
the road and I just couldn’t stop in time.

Oh, boy!

I wasn’t hurt, thank God, and the car was only hurt a little,
so I was able to drive away, but it sure shook me up.

One of these days, soon, I won’t be traveling that road anymore.
This job will be ending.  I don’t know when, but I know it will, and
I’ll probably have to hit the highway along with the rest of the world.

I’m gonna miss traveling that old winding road.