Journey

     By Christopher Bowman

The witching hour has past
Ribbon of blacktop,
roiling pastures abound,
time like sand sliding slowly past one mile marker at a time.
The distance closes,
hearts beat faster,
loves long sojourn finds completion as
separated souls find release.
A smile.
A kiss.
Hearts delivered from distant bondage fly free.
Soaring to heaven only imagined,
the dreamers awake,
dreamers no more....