This highway gets mighty cold
With only a memorie of her to hold

But I’m on the homeward side of a six day run
Crossing these plains and shifting gears
I’ve got little white lines in my headlights
And that sunrise peeking in my mirrors

One more stop, then I’m dodging the DOT
All the way home to my Sweet Pea

She’ll hear me coming that last half mile
As I roll this truck down the…

Poetry from the Road