I’d lost count of how many days I’d been on the road, but this was my last run. Afterward, I would retire. My wife Amy and I had waited a long time for this. The truck was empty except for my belongings and the roses I’d bought for Amy in the last town.
As the eighteen wheels rumbled around the bend and off the interstate, my favorite Kathy Mattea song came on the radio. I turned up the volume and celebrated because it was my song.
Now, it’s your turn. See if you can write a poem or story of no more and no less than six sentences, using the prompt word “bend.” Click here to learn how you can participate, or leave your piece in the comment field below.
By the way, for those of you who use the National Library Services for the Blind and Print Disabled, The…
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