The quiet of the day

strolls in to the rest stop,

and life is on a pause.

The coffee is stale,

and the dust has settled outside.

The road breathes and waits

to spin me around and around

to where I have stood

so many times,

so many years,

but when will I reach

new ground?

Will my footprints linger or fade,

and how long will I rest here?

Life is all I want,

and life is what I have not lived

for these last four years.

How long will I be kept on hold?

How long till the door opens again?

When will I walk new road,

and when will a closed sign

finally be hung

in the window

of this rest stop,

this place

that I continue to call home?

Rest Stop

by, Melissa R. Mendelson