the road poem.

THE ROAD

He’s on the road
and five o’clock
means solitude.
She sits and rocks.

Anticipation,
his favorite meal,
long cool drinks
are not in the deal.

The gravel’s crunch
from the wheels of his car.
The weekend begins
and fear in her heart.

They’re getting older
but abuse goes on.
She’s made the decision
to live. She’ll move on.

Janet Brice Parker