run for the hills
the perpetual valley
center cut via a thin line
barely meandering
though trickling just fine
cabins are spotted all along the way
I’ve told her it’s too late
for anyone to come back home
let alone her
speculators have become
aplenty lately
and I’m beginning to think
they’re starting to make sense
one day a long long time ago
someone had to have said
this here
this here is the final frontier
little did that someone know
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
Beautiful imagery! A trundled wagon ride? A camper pulled over to the side? Both apt I feel.
You’ve a lovely imagination! Thank you for reading my poetry & commenting on this piece.