Every. Single. Day.

Apparently in my two weeks off from the wonderful world of college classes, I thought it was unnecessary to post any new blog entries. Oh well, I highly doubt anyone noticed. It's not like I have a huge following like katydidnot  

So, here you are... the first Intro To Creative Writing prompt. Write a poem about driving to a place that you love or hate. You have to start, end, or both with a question. You have to make reference to at least two road signs. And you must have a list of concrete items. Sounds fun right?

Please if you feel so inclined, do it too. Now. 

Every. Single. Day.

Is Frying Pan two words ma’am?

Yes, two words.

Just like the pan you fry fish in.

Frying Pan Road

Home

Driving home. Every. Single. Day.

Twenty three miles from town

From reality

Fills my car with things

One flip flop, jumper cables,

Spare coffee mug

Three sweatshirts, a jug of water

“You can never be too prepared”

My mother always claimed.

Twenty three miles

Fills my head with thoughts

Thoughts wandering

With the river

Meandering down the valley

My car traveling against the flow

The engine struggling against

Little oxygen and steep hills

Strawberry rock to my right

The waves crashing against the red dirt

Freezing lungs gasping for air

As we hurdle into the river

Frying Pan River

Home

Falling Rock

The yellow sign claims

As I turn my my tires around

The red sharp rocks

That have fallen in the road

Cliffs slowly eroding

Only to pop my rubber tire

Just a minor stall in my drive

Seven Castles jutting overhead

Firey orange in color

Sharply contrasting the blue sky

Hidden Driveway

Another yellow sign

It must be magic, since it’s hidden.

“Watch that corner, black ice”

My mother muttered as I learned to drive

The thought that always crossed my mind

Around. That. Corner.

Slowly accelerating up the dam

Coming around the corner

Sparkling sun rays on the lake

Nothing like that first view.

Spiraling around the reservoir

My eyes droop with exhaustion

Almost home,

I tell myself

Thinking all the way

Anything to keep my mind

On the road

Frying Pan Road

Home

The blue mail box

With creamy yellow stars and moons

Painted on the side

Relief

Relief from driving,

The long day,

Too many thoughts

Relief from reality

Ma’am, is Frying Pan two words?

Yes.

Two Words

Many memories

One home.

Mine.