No Ride for Me

A Mick Grant Original

I see you staring me down on the side of the road
Me, wondering if you’ll stop to pick me up

Suddenly it starts to rain
I see the concern in your eyes

The taillights light up and you slow to a crawl
I pick up my pace but I’m still leery

I hear the locks engage as I approach
The hesitation shows in your eyes

As I knock on the window you stare straight ahead
Then I read your lips “I can’t do this”

I wave goodbye as you slowly leave
I throw you my best sad face to change your mind

Obviously, it doesn’t work

You always act this way when you’re drunk
It’s going to be a long walk home for me.

Mick Grant is a published writer of The Fading and Other Works. He lives in China Village.

Sweet Dreams

by Marilou Suchar
Vassalboro

The gold, the red the shades of green, splash of fall colors, a brilliant scene.

It’s nippy, it’s cool – the breezes blow, It won’t be long ‘til winter’s snow.
The leaves come falling fluttering down, to spread out gingerly on the ground.

It’s not the time to moan and weep, it’s time to rest, to dream, to sleep.

The “Goddess Spring” will soon awake, and with her she will winter take.

“Spring” wakes up the leaves and flowers, and birds will sing for long, long hours.

Summer sun will dance and play, but in Maine it cannot stay.

Then, so soon again, to gold and red, the leaves will turn and go to bed.