Truckers' and Others Poems & Poetry

In the night air distance, I see an 18 wheeler parked
along side the road.
It's yellow decorative lights glowing so proud and bold.

I bet that trucker is tired and is taking a nap,
with his only friend along for the ride, a cb mic
in his lap.

I wonder if he's dreaming of being at home,
instead of sitting above tires and brightly polished chrome.

As we wakes and finds a stale cup of coffee from the previous day,
engine running, smoke stack flowing as he reaches for his gears, and
off on his way.

As I watch him drive down the road thru what looks like a long night,
I pray for his safety as he slowly fades from my sight.

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