Today we were asked to write a segment of a saga whose style might not be to our poetic taste because they can go on and on. I decided to look at other journeys that may seem to go on and on.
For forty days and forty nights
We headed to the coast
To see the sewage flow from pipes,
And eat our weight in toast.
We hopped upon an omnibus
Of dullest, darkest green
Then swapped the train for a bus
And lost our heads in steam.
At home the gas and iron were off,
We’d locked away our pets,
And father’s throat would clear a cough,
When asked “are we there yet?”.
Missives & Musings 