Me and Old 89

Here it is mid-moring climbing into old eighty-nine,

Just got my dispatch and its time to head on down the line.

I hate this truck more and more each mile,

The fun is fading now along with my smile.

These wheels I once loved with all my heart,

Now they seem to be pulling me apart.

Loaded up and grabbing gears down the road I go,

Not making much time fighting the ice and snow.

Slowly pushing on with this heavy load behind,

Thoughts of you running through my mind.

My thoughts now wonder how you feel about me,

If I could ever be the one you would want to see.

Often I now wonder what it is that I feel,

Could it be something far greater than these wheels.

The fear of getting hurt runs through my head too,

Hurting you is the last thing I could ever do.

Wish I could call and tell you how I feel inside,

Yet the pain or rejection runs along beside.

For now I will just keep on driving along,

More thoughts of you will come with every song.

But for now its just me and old eighty-nine,

And a hope and prayer that someday you might be mine.

Truckers' and Others Poems & Poetry