Jan worked nights at a general store

Worked to closing and she’d lock the doors

She was restless,

thought “there’s got to be more

to life than this”

Every day it was the same routine

She was convinced the grass would be

A little more green

elsewhere, anywhere far from there

So one night she packed her bags

Jammed her foot down on the gas

Left that town lightning fast,

with her car radio up full blast

with no intention of ever going back

Her headlights cutting through the night’s pitch black

By:J.N.R Dutton

Author: J.N.R Dutton (aka The Poet)

Husband. Father. Writer/Independent Journalist/Poet. Artist,all around creative soul. I reside in Southern Idaho with my wife & son.

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