THE HITCHHIKER
The winter rain was misting down,
whining truck tires throwing out their spray.
A hitchhiker stood beside the road,
his wet thumb pointing out his way.
His body hunched against the wind,
illuminated plainly in the headlight’s glare.
Watching the cars with pleading eyes.
That called out to us in his despair,
But Wet and cold, he stood there mute,
his worn knapsack hanging from a strap.
Buffeted by blasts from speeding cars and trucks,
their gusts tearing at his coat and cap.
Wearily he turned and trudged north again,
perhaps an elusive dream was what he sought.
Then I realized this lonely man,
was going somewhere and I was not.
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Very nice and easy going write. Brings back memories of my misspent youth. Happy trails.
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excellent penning my friend...the final lines turn and twist the piece with deft hands and sharp mind. I thoroughly enjoyed this.
Rory
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This was darned good Del! I did a bit of that when I was young and that is exactly how it is. The last lines, turning from outward focus to inward reflection, very pivotal and poignant. Nice poem overall, Del! John
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Excellent
There is always a mystery surrounding the hitchhiker...
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I love this poem - the ryhme was wonderful and the message beared consideration. Well done as always!
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Del,
i love this, you have a knack in showing us the inside of you caring natue. this poem is sad but great in the respect of we need to think of ohters more.
loved this.
Dolores xxx
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I like the last two lnes...many of us still dont know where we are gong but the hitchhiker was going
somewhere....
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