My writing

3 a.m.

I wonder why
There are so many cars out
At three in the morning.

I’ll admit it;
I’ve been there before.
I’ve been on one of those
3 a.m. roads.

But I know my story.
What of the hundreds of others?

The run down car.
So ancient
That it shouldn’t be working.
Where does it need to go?
Why couldn’t it wait till daybreak?

The flashy convertible.
Laughter and music
flowing out through the windows,
Infecting the dark night sky.
The one of a kind magic
Only found in 3 a.m. cars.

A bulky van
And a family of five.
I wonder if the passengers are awake,
Gazing at the stars
Or sound asleep,
Dreaming 3 a.m. dreams

Are they coming back
From a road trip?
A vacation?
Did they like it?
Or are they yearning
For the comfort of home?

The occasional 3 a.m. bus.
So many passengers.
So many destinations.
So many stories.

The people on 3 a.m. roads-
Are they running from something?
Are they running towards something?

Either way,
Some things cannot wait till the morning.
3 a.m. roads
Are the way to go.


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