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On the Road

Setting out on the road again
Starting at the edge of town
The wind whips my hair
And exhausted I stare down.

A pack over my shoulder
And cracked leather on my feet
I walk down the striped white line
Unaware of what or whom I shall meet.

Home is behind me
Left for the last time
No regret in my heart
Or tears in my eyes.

I'm on the road again
And the road is my friend.

--June 20, 1999

Notes: A poem from June of 1999. This is one of many poems I've written that have fourteen lines, but which are not sonnets.