Driving Into Sunset

A poem.

The butterflies are playing
too close to the highway,
as if sucked into a vortex
of car current and monarch dashes.
Twilight floods the road
until it becomes a purple river
sweeping around the bend.
Fluttering wings become flashing fins
and I am a fisherman now,
not walking on water but waiting,
watching for some ripple to remind me
it's time to go ashore.

Share this story:

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...

Loading...

Save for later

Save
Cancel

Saved ( of items)

This item has been saved to read later from any device.
Access saved items through your user name at the top of the page.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You reached the limit of 20 saved items.
Please visit following link to manage you saved items.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You have already saved this item.

View Saved Items

OK