My Erotic Trail
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Oct 28, 2005
- Posts
- 3,177
The Road to Hondo
Into the future on the wings of memories,
across the lone star state at high noon,
Tall pines shrank to dwarf sized oaks,
commercialism lined the highway
through the scenic hillcountry
as signs; blocked the mountainous views
food for conversation, like:
'Cedar Eaters'
motto: 'Environmentally Friendly'
(picture: A large tractor with forks
uprooting trees and shreading them)
the moon ascended over a wooden fence
and stepped upward through powerlines
like a musical note rising in scale
the truck's grill a beautiful new color
filled with flattened butterflys
the first night we were there
a case of the missing pink panties
arose, where muscles grow
in a motel light's ignored glow
although the rain closet offered
a blast in two different ways
romance blossomed on the road
to hondo
the asphault raceway riddled with racers
racing from one scenic site to the next
faster than one could enjoy such places.
Passing our old pickup several times
as we made our way steadily on the road to Hondo
A country said to be dominated
by the over population of white tail deer
we saw as many in the wild
as there were laying along the highway
and the scent of a skunk's hit and run
still rings in my memory this day
mexican meals in the high texas hills
and strolling the german heritage octoberfest's pre:dawn,
workers with late night yawns
prepared for a new day's worth of commerce.
The wineries were not yet awaken either,
watching wild black birds
clean sweep the parking lot
for fallen morsels and hopefull handouts.
while mockingbirds sang for a meal
excitement grew wilder
as we drove nearer, to the town
where the legendary Mayor,
imagineer, story teller, singer,
song writer, cowboy and poet lived,
as we turned...
on the last road to Hondo.
His small smiling statue
still stood outside
the old post office/
souveneer store/
beer joint with a line out the door
to shell out dough for memorabilia
some tourists were taking pictures
of the chickens pecking the ground.
Musicians gathered around back
for the weekend's weekly gathering
songwriters with hopeful expectations
of recognition and the comorodary
texas guit'fiddle pickers;
whom have all made the journey
on the road to hondo.
We reveled in the words of the dead poet
in several postings of his humorous wit
around the small town, Luckenbauch, TX
We tipped our hats, bid him; 'good day'
and drove away, on the road to Hondo.
Into the future on the wings of memories,
across the lone star state at high noon,
Tall pines shrank to dwarf sized oaks,
commercialism lined the highway
through the scenic hillcountry
as signs; blocked the mountainous views
food for conversation, like:
'Cedar Eaters'
motto: 'Environmentally Friendly'
(picture: A large tractor with forks
uprooting trees and shreading them)
the moon ascended over a wooden fence
and stepped upward through powerlines
like a musical note rising in scale
the truck's grill a beautiful new color
filled with flattened butterflys
the first night we were there
a case of the missing pink panties
arose, where muscles grow
in a motel light's ignored glow
although the rain closet offered
a blast in two different ways
romance blossomed on the road
to hondo
the asphault raceway riddled with racers
racing from one scenic site to the next
faster than one could enjoy such places.
Passing our old pickup several times
as we made our way steadily on the road to Hondo
A country said to be dominated
by the over population of white tail deer
we saw as many in the wild
as there were laying along the highway
and the scent of a skunk's hit and run
still rings in my memory this day
mexican meals in the high texas hills
and strolling the german heritage octoberfest's pre:dawn,
workers with late night yawns
prepared for a new day's worth of commerce.
The wineries were not yet awaken either,
watching wild black birds
clean sweep the parking lot
for fallen morsels and hopefull handouts.
while mockingbirds sang for a meal
excitement grew wilder
as we drove nearer, to the town
where the legendary Mayor,
imagineer, story teller, singer,
song writer, cowboy and poet lived,
as we turned...
on the last road to Hondo.
His small smiling statue
still stood outside
the old post office/
souveneer store/
beer joint with a line out the door
to shell out dough for memorabilia
some tourists were taking pictures
of the chickens pecking the ground.
Musicians gathered around back
for the weekend's weekly gathering
songwriters with hopeful expectations
of recognition and the comorodary
texas guit'fiddle pickers;
whom have all made the journey
on the road to hondo.
We reveled in the words of the dead poet
in several postings of his humorous wit
around the small town, Luckenbauch, TX
We tipped our hats, bid him; 'good day'
and drove away, on the road to Hondo.
(yes, that means I liked it. Hooting with laughter with all kinds of naughty things running through my mind, lol )
