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A Night on the Overlander

Fog and smoke surrounds me,
the wind flying past me,
shooting through the dark,
past lives thatll never see the flow
out here im so alone.

We're the passing lights,
the rolling thunder of the night,
each time i slip into myself
the fog horn blows,
reminding lives of lives theyll never know.

Running from the night,
from the urge to stop and show,
its not exactly perfect,
but the chasing lights means ill always know.

This could be a home that never slows

poem by Andrew Rose
Added by Poetry Lover
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