Sunday, May 10, 2009

The Hitchhiker: By Lannon McGregor

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His soul has long been sold.
He walks close alongside death;
His legs are growing old.
In fact, getting older with each step taken.
His body shakes in waves of panic,
As he walks amongst the stars.
Calm twilight, sidewalk graves,
And the highway's hissing cars.

They said he'd appreciate a mile of sun,
When he had walked a mile of rain.
But lonely storm clouds can't be outrun,
And show little signs of change.
The wetness weighs him down,
And now he struggles with each step.
His heavy eyes loathe the sight of ground,
And his lungs draw tired breaths.

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