The Road

You see it’s like a road you use to take every day.

Drive it every day. You know the road like the back of your hand and the road knows you.

The curves the dips the ditches all known very well.

Nothing is off limits to you while on the road and is a road you frequent often.

But you can't drive any more​ on that road you see there is a lot of construction there.

A highway is being built on the road. The road has a toll to which you cannot pay because for the likes of you, you may not enter.

No matter because I love the road it deserves a highway it was a great road trustworthy and gentle “always there” kind of road.

The highway will be great for the road and lucky it is to have a toll so that it may stay fresh and new with little traffic.

Grateful I am also for the road to have a toll to which I cannot pay.

For if I could pay it may only bring me despair for the road, I knew so well has grown so much that I barely recognize it.

The road I know has expanded in depth and connection too far out reaching for my destination.

My only fear is that the road that has become a highway that has a toll and the toll I cannot pay because I cannot enter thinks of me.

Longs for me to travel it.

With its various traffic and possible destinations.

It wants me to cross maybe once or twice at least a little bit maybe along for the road unknown but well known possibly that is common to me no longer.

Because if the road l knew so well longed for me.

The road that is now a highway and has a toll and the toll I cannot pay because I cannot enter, wants me.

I would surely find my way to the road.

But only to tell the road it has grown and I have new transportation and its destinations are no longer mine.

I do not know how I would navigate the road now that is a highway nor how I will pay the toll to which I cannot pay because I cannot enter.

But to know the road that was a gentle road a kind and loving road.

Inviting always until it could no longer, and this is the usual road that has become a vast highway and has a toll.

And the toll is there to keep the road fresh among other things and the toll I cannot pay because I cannot enter.

If the road missed my travels on it as well and longed for me, thought of me.

Thought things like... of what roads I take now, and if I commute along a highway now, or common road, or if this commute is rough or tranquil, thrilling or peaceful.

Am I happy or content?

This thought alone is enough.

To ease a traveler’s sprit and lover of the road I would not worry.