Swirling lights, rushing rain
Driving headlong, motorway pain.
Getting there tired and bleak
Sometimes too stressed out to speak.
Roads congested far too much
The town and country travelling crutch.
Hell on earth is in the car
That’s in a jam and can’t move far.
Fifty feet the last move made
Cars around me variously splayed.
Once again grind to a halt
On thinking brains like common assault.
Will I get there – who can tell!
Life moves slow in concrete hell.
©Joe Wilson – The global traffic jam 2014