Suitcase in hand tears in her eyes,
She never bothered to say goodbye.
Traveling down the road a song comes to mind,
Just an old tune to pass the time.
Hitching a ride on her way to fortune and fame,
Heading to California trying to make a name.
Her guitar on her shoulder, strap a little long,
It did not matter. That is where it belonged.
The sun held high, the heat brought thirst,
She knew not to cry, it would only make it worse.
Trying not to think of their last words that were said,
Trying to forget the sight of the two of them in bed.
She wanted to run, to cry, and to scream,
But instead decided to pursue her dream.
California, where the hippies all gathered,
Peace, love, and rock and roll, all that mattered.
After all it was the ‘70’s, why settle down,
Looking for laughter in a new state, new town.
A Volkswagen van, love and peace written on the side,
After hours on the rode she had caught a ride.
She made it to California, never became a star,
Met a man, had a kid, drove an old beat up car.
But she was happy, her guitar played a loving tune,
Babe was in bed, her and her man in tune with the moon.
© Cynthia Clark
Thank you
Very nice write x