rolling green hills
trees oh plenty
wrapping around the
roads cutting through forests
the wind rushes in my hair
picks up golden strands
whips them back and forth
pushing one hunnid on
the speedometer
and i know i can
push it faster,
overdrive be damned
there ain't no dead ends
here where the roads
decide to not end,
tell you no and remains
forever stubborn until
left alone to their own devices