Up, Up, and Away

Over the river, through the woods
Away from grandma’s house we go
The “horse” knows the way
From sunny climes to cold and snow
On winding concrete ribbons
Past endless, hills, valleys
Numerous, strange-named places
Full of people we didn’t know
Luggage, packed, stowed away
Always more than the year before
Why has it always been that way?

Author: warturoadam77p

70 year old married retired communications worker with three grown children, transplanted from the Midwest to the sunny Gulf Coast.

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