Roads

Potholes and detours, every kind of contours.
Roads are a going thing, all over the world they are laid.
They go up, and they go down, they take you all over town.
Thought, like a habit, fearful of the unknown, recycled to redundancy.
Thought, like a bird on the wing, Here and there and back again, filtering, sampling, wondering.
Thought, like a river, Flowing to the end, finding more than it dreamed. Flowing with the roads without end.
Taking the high road, sometimes lower,
Where ever my thoughts take me and roads go.
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©
Rexx