by Roy Dorman
Walking on the side of a dusty road;
Carrying a backpack full of yesterdays.
Hitchhiking: Thumbing a ride into tomorrow.
Life passes me by. I smile and wave.
Tomorrow I can put today in the backpack;
It’ll be a yesterday.
There’s a whole mess of ‘em in there
That are all pretty much like today.
Every once in awhile
There’s a different kind of today
That doesn't fit well with the yesterdays
That are already packed away in there.
I can feel the rustling
Of the commotion they cause.
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