Cars

• Dominic Walker, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2004

A cloud of cars moving down the freeway,
Once you reach them there is no room for leeway.
Over snaking byways and reaching flyways.

Sweeping, swerving, accelerating, braking, worming through the crowd.

Fast as a blur when one passes.
A swarm of bees zooming down a road.

Blinded by a superficial reason,
where is everyone going...why?