Lost in the miles, lost in the smiles,
the road calls out my name
Throttle in hand, a beckoning land,
no two days then the same
Direction unmapped, my nose to attack,
what's never been before
Fate rides ahead, making my bed
—the wind to know for sure
(Limon Colorado: August,2019)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem