Chatterbox: Inkwell

Poem! This is about my grandparents' farm.

I am waking up early.

Racing the sun on the black concrete

Spending a day just looking out the window

Singing in your head, on your tongue, out your lips

I am staying up late

Trying for that forever place 

Where asphalt turns to gravel and dust.

But falling asleep to the thump-whirr of tires.

I am green hills covering a house

And the smell of purplish-blue

Washing over you like warm rain

I am myself, I am there.