His head down in your lap tapping on his phone,
feeling at rest in a vehicle zipping down the interstate.

Rain crashing down on the glass as his children and wife rest.
The millisecond of undivided attention sends the vehicle airborne.
Everyone killed,
his family and the other.
He sits there praying

“Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end
Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.”
-Christina Rossetti

From morn to night.
The everlasting journey,
of the up-hill road.

From morn to night.
Day after day, it seems
to get steeper and vigorous.

From morn to night .
He thinks of ways to make the up-hill road,
like a water slide at a theme park.

From morn to night.
He realizes,
that there is beauty in the struggle of things.

From morn to night.
He works harder to be at peace.

From morn to night.
He notices something,
the up-hill road slowly shifting.

From morn to night.
This treacherous up-hill road
is now the water slide that he enjoys riding everyday
for the rest of his life.