By Glenn J. M. Bastide

The road extended for leagues through thick woods,
So quiet, I put a car for every three miles crossed,
And on a night like this the very air was scented,
Night I say though it couldn’t be dark, not here,

We crossed unfinished houses and old ones ruined,
Toads crossed our paths below, mosquitoes watching above
They dived for me again and again, my flesh marked by their success
I carried their marks as mine, though I would sooner part with my skin.

The way back brought the sunrise to our eyes
It lay down a golden hue on everything, my spirit too
My shadow grew smaller and I put my muscles to the bike

The road extended for leagues through thick woods,
The end of the trail is as good as the way back.

There are times when it’s us and them, specks and stars
When smooth-skulled sorrow plays its part.
But give me a goal, let me see to its end
And watch me come back my friend, a happier man.

Are you an aspiring poet or short story writer? Send a sample of your work to Gemma at and it could be featured in one of our upcoming issues!

Previous Post

Breaking In

Next Post

The Last Straw