Road Trips With My Daughters 2024
by Michael Doyle

There's a sort of magic I learned as I grew
That traveling with children reveals anew
The wonders and enchantments there are to find
Along with the souvenirs that serve to remind

One of the places gone to and things done
As the days pass under the summer's sun
Maybe lacking perfection but building memories
These are the things that make good families

It's an investment in growth and happiness
Even on those days that add up to less than bliss
In a lifetime of such blunders and wonders and glories
This might become a day that had stories within stories

Traveling too many hours, not quite well-planned
And yet adding up to missteps easy to understand
And easier still to smile on and maybe forgive
Of adventures, we didn't quite manage to live

I had chose the Henry Ford as a point of creativity
To share with my daughters and encourage ingenuity
I have always sought to encourage leaps of imagination
Believing that all things are possible with innovation

This was another stop along the way to becoming mature
Hoping that in sharing one man's path it might nurture
The sorts of choices that would help these girls find voices
That would rise above chambered echoes and drowning noises

There we were stuck on the wrong side of the gate
We found ourselves just short and several minutes too late
But instead of disappointment, they found pleasure
In the times spent talking as having worth beyond measure

Turning toward dinner we recounted times that had passed
And the sorts of dreams and pleasures that have been cast
In the days that have come and gone and have readily shown
That imagination and inspiration are better than things known

We arrived just after sunset had filled the night skies
We had seen its last traces of pink and peach with our eyes
Turning to night above the trees near Lake Erie's shore
Without disappointment, they smiled that there would be more

And that said the truth that I did not really want to hear
That sometimes things are missed but magic doesn't disappear
We had watched the seagulls overhead before we had arrived
Other beaches are left to explore and we had survived 

(c) July 17, 2024    Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved