Backroad
Curvy and lined with trees
A 20 minute drive
going the speed limit
A 10 minute drive
With the green fading together
Filled with hills that get your stomach
And bridges with the creek underneath
You give me time to think
And let me play my music as loud as I want
You are my friend, and my therapy.
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no interstate is likely to have a poem saluting its gifts to the writer – – -love it.