The Guardrail’s Secret
Along the roadside, silver and plain,
It hums with the echo of passing rain.
A humble guardrail, steadfast and true,
Keeping the cars where they ought to stay too.
Yet seekers arrive with a glimmering smile,
Their GPS leading them mile after mile.
They’re not here for traffic, nor asphalt’s gray song,
But hunting a treasure that’s hidden along.
A bolt out of place, a magnet that clings,
A film can concealed with the smallest of things.
Logbook awaits, rolled tidy inside,
The joy of discovery impossible to hide.
So next time you see that metallic line,
Remember its duty is noble, divine.
But whisper a grin if you know the tale—
Sometimes adventure lives under a rail.