A road. A road.
This is swift hop to a clue with swings and roundabouts I glued
To photos made a century ago when this was history.
I spied a river and stole a road and took my words from stories told.
And borrowed more than I could store and washed those spirits from my door.
A road.
I shook my head and sold a joke and listened carefully as they spoke.
And soaked it up like cloth and milk and spat it out like strings of silk.
Your t's and i's, I failed to cook and sank the line they all mistook.
And gathered heat for yesterday but the sun the showed its head anyway.

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