The Road

The road behind never slows

In its winding, fleeting kaleidoscope dream

Like a chemtrail fading into the sky

Memory loses focus after one cycle

But then a flash, a vision, a picture in time

Sometimes a sound or even a scent

And that road has stopped for a while

Cratered enough to interrupt the flow

Right back in that moment

Nostalgia forks the road and offers a restful pit stop

Outstaying a welcome has diminishing returns

And so the road propels again