5 of 69

Write now Article Tools

Far from home, not far from where I want to be
the sun is setting, I'm getting tired of the scenery
I just want to be picked up, anything, anywhere will do
I want another place, another space, a change of view

I'm writing a book, I'm talking to the trees
watching the ants and looking at, families
Everyone is pointing, shaking their heads
off they go, to their homes, to their warm beds

All the blinding lights, will they pity me
here, standing in the cold, looking, like misery
Winding road, what's around the next bend
no point in walking, because, it will never end

My right hand thumb, is my very best friend
it is my ticket for a ride, it is all I have to spend
With my best foot forward, trying to look, my best
many cars flying by, no one, looking for a guest

It's been a long time, out here, on this highway
things start to change, as nothing, is going, my way
I'm traveling my road, and, I will never look back
there's another life beside me, opening, a crack

In this world of boxes and closed minded heart
conversation and hospitality, seems to be losing it's art
But, a part of human nature, still identifies with me
hitching, hiking, out here, at home now, and free

Learn more about this author, Jon Coe.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Poetry: Hitchhiking?
We want to hear your view. Write now!