While one day out wandering
I found this poem on the side of the road
Either someone had tossed it out
Or from a car window it was blown

It was covered up with dirt and grime
Guess it had been there quite some time
Plus water spot stains of rain
Or tears someone had cried

It started out simple enough
As it rhymed out this poets love
Then changed course about mid-verse
Over secrets that he learned

Not sure if this was the end
Of the love he held that day
But from where it is that I sit
It sure looks that way

I guess his wasn't the only heart
With which his lover played
Which might explain the reason and the way
I found this poem that day

I read down a few more stanzas
Were the poem ended suddenly
So I stuck the poem into my pocket
As I stuck my thumb in the air to leave

It didn't take that long for a car to stop by
An old man in a sedan with loneliness in his eyes
In conversation he told me he'd been a poet on this road
Something that he does miss but gave up sometime ago

He didn't delve deeply into the reason why
At that point we sat in silence as the landscape passed by
I'm not sure in those moments what was on his mind
But I think there was a tear in the corner of his eye

I figured to leave well enough alone would be best
And still to this day I wonder if ever that
He found that poem I stuffed under the seat
And if it brought sorrow or it brought relief
as I stepped out of the car and back onto the street