Huffs dancing off lips,
Slips of stars far in the fog,
Bogged down by a megaton thought,
Brought old pages for a minor drought,
Bout with loose wheels and rusted gears,
Odd jeers from strangers stepping by,
Flying back to the nest to rest,
Imagining this road surrounded by scrapers,
Humming shadows treading ghostly,
Halted inertia,
Jocularly walking back to where I was,
Cause’ it’s that familiar smell that this scene
wafts back to me.
