“I am always leaving fast, with the dust in my tracks” Gun Roswell

With dust in my tracks

When I do leave, a place, any single place
I usually, like to leave, my own mark as well
Be that something permanent, carved on stone
Or, just simple specs of dust, in the air thrown
So, today, when the sun was finally shining
And the wide open roads me gently beckoned
I jumped into my trusted four wheeled steed
And pushed the pedal to the metal for the speed
The dry and sandy path ahead, to an idea lead
To leave a sign of my being here, on this sphere
As I drove down the lane, like a person, insane
The only thing to be seen, as I left the slate clean
Was the thick and ever climbing, spectacular sighting
Of a cloud filled with small grains, forming the dust
Leaving it hanging in the air, until the day fell to rust