5 A.M.
And the pretty skies aren't there
Driving to the airport
Always brings misty
Foggy
Mornings
It's always darker than it should be
Like it's actually four or three in the morning
Maybe it is
I'm too tired to know
No one else is up
Just us in our SUV
Driving these empty roads
Every light is red
And the empty shops
Make it seem like
We're driving through a ghost town
And not our hometown
The radio is silent
Maybe it was never turned on
Or the people at the station haven't arrived to work
To talk mindless things
Driving to the airport
Always brings mixed feelings
I can't remember where we're going
Or if I'm going with
I just know that we're going somewhere
For some period of time
YOU ARE READING
Leaving Behind the Endless Fields of Corn and Soybeans
PoetryEveryone has that one place in their heart. The two will always be connected, whether they love that place, or hate that place. My place? My town? I love it, I hate it. I've left it behind. This collection of poetry is about the place, the town, tha...
