Final Ride

by mkvecchitto

vintage cars

Back when his eyes were bright

and his back was strong

he could do it all

On paper, the world was his

Events unfolded, as they should,

and his freedom became tethered to

self-imposed visions of grandeur,

fear of the unknown stole some of the shine

Youth, they say, is wasted on the young

Spending time looking for an opening,

an attempt to escape the inevitable,

he sped down back roads,

adding hard miles to his ride

And when his carriage gave way, bones and tires

protesting too many potholes and dark alleys,

he paused to discard his map

and confront his fears

Holding onto the idea that superficial flaws

may be many but quality of spirit sustains,

he was ready to take his

final ride

photo: Write Divas

prompts: Write Divas, Poets on the Page, Five Minute Friday/31 Days, #PoetteerChat

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2 Comments to “Final Ride”

  1. This is beautiful! Attraction to superiority brings with it inferiority without fail. All roads, all words, all people are equal in richness. Looking for freedom as something superior to others (visions of grandeur hence as a source of pleasure), will only lead to pain and denial (as you said protesting of potholes and dark alleys). Superb. Thank you.

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