We climbed the hill together.
We came down one at a time.
The city was on the other side
just beyond our reach.
Are we so different now,
than what we were before?
Or has the city grown too large
to keep us on our path?
Now we wonder the lonely highways
searching for who we were,
who we are.
The trails have split,
and become overgrown
with tall and rambling weeds of doubt.
Seedy motels are calling
to the rambler in our hearts.
The hill is razed to ashes
that still smolder in the night,
as we watch the glow fade
into the sunset of our lives.
Ann Christine Tabaka, a native of Delaware, was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2017. She won Spillwords Press’s 2020 Publication of the Year, and her bio is featured in the “Who’s Who of Emerging Writers 2020,” published by Sweetycat Press. Chris has been internationally published and has won poetry awards from numerous publications. Her work has been translated into Sequoyah-Cherokee Syllabics and into Spanish. She is the author of 13 poetry books. Her most recent credits are: The American Writers Review; The Phoenix; Burningword Literary Journal; Muddy River Poetry Review; The Scribe, The Silver Blade, Silver Birch Press, Pomona Valley Review, Page & Spine, West Texas Literary Review, The Hungry Chimera, Sheila-Na-Gig, Foliate Oak Review, The Stray Branch, The McKinley Review, Fourth & Sycamore. Chris lives with her husband and four cats and loves gardening and cooking.
Nice one Christine!
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