Thirst

A stretch of sun-beaten asphalt,
Brushing bushes,around crags
bent.
Its wait to distant land travels,
For footprints to those mysteries unravel.
For centuries it has lain awake,
Like a pre-historic giant snake.
It feeds on miles, and miles,on end,
Its twisted curves travellers befriend.
One way leads to another,
One cobbled, maybe, the other smoother.
"It's never the end of the road",
Not mine, some wise man did quote.
For, when there seems no other way,
There's a tomorrow, which is another day.
                                            Chandni .u