Left over from days gone before us, a shiny dream, rusting into place. I imagine what trips it may have taken. Did it see the emerald coast and kiss the sun or maybe hug the curves of the wild blue ridge, blowing through its falling colors. Did it rush through the desert covered in dust or did it just stay at home and watch the weeds grow up through its deflated dreams, as what could have been never was. Do not wait for the day that will never come, for the day that is at hand is always best.
Image and Words by: Josh Fleming