Road

Ah road.
My road.

You use to be broken
Worn and faded.
Your black asphalt resembled
a depressed persons view of life.

But like antidepressants
make loopy the souls of the hopeless
the county finally made you new.

The black poured from the truck
and gave you a tax bought new coat.
The rollers pressed you and made
you beautiful.

And then the details:
Yellow dashes that will mature
into the solid yellow lines of an adult.

And then my road,
you are no longer worn and broken.
You are new.
You are rejuvenated.