poetry by j matthew waters

riding shotgun

i left the house unlocked
with all the lights on
and ventured down the hill
in the dark and in the cold

within minutes a warmth
surprised my cool thoughts
as the faraway wall of clouds
evolved into pink and red
and purple and blue

as my meandering mind
marched further away
a bright red fire truck
appeared out of nowhere
blasting its dominant horn
and racing to save the day

a trio of three dogs named
java and cocoa and sally
halted in their tracks
as if envious of the dalmatian
sitting at attention and
riding shotgun

january two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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