On My Way

Wheels humming
against hot asphalt

and I’m coming.

Frantic landscapes
speed by
through blurry windows

and I’m coming.

Quick transfers,
rushed exchanges,
bags banging
against my legs
as I run,
and I keep chanting,

I’m coming.

Bus slows
and so does time
as your face
becomes real
for the first time
in two years
and three thousand miles,


* * *

This was written in response to the NaPoWriMo prompt, a rushed journey. Enjoy!




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