On the Road
Iíve seen pale sunlight seeping through
lace curtains into restaurants
where stoic sales-reps breakfast on
lukewarm eggs and tired croissants.
Iíve watched them settle up and go
down grey streets in company cars
and when the evening comes, I know
their cover bonhomie in bars.
I too have slept in drab motels
and watched the TV news until
Iíve closed the door upon a room
only the long dayís quiet will fill.
Like them, Iíve driven far away
from anywhere I could call home
and woken to a world in which
Iíll pack my bags and onwards roam Ė
and yes, Iíve come to understand
it would have been the same if Iíd
never set out, although perhaps
such truths are easier to hide
from those who leave the road untried.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Tom Vaughan would be pleased to hear them.