You flew out early, half‑awake, Standby gamble, risk to take. Through JFK, then ATL, A close‑call story you’ll later tell. Delays that stretched the airport day Let you watch two films (and half) on the way — Jurassic World with stolen blood, Running Man through neon mud. Savannah met you warm and slow, Where moss hangs low and breezes blow. You walked for miles through shaded streets, Past ghost‑tale corners and haunted beats. Two hotels with kitchens neat, Two queen beds, both clean and sweet. One night with Dylan, one alone, Both felt soft as a borrowed home. You cooked spaghetti, rich and red, Fed Dylan well, kept yourself fed. Tuna, potatoes, Lunchables too — Travel food that carried you through. Swamps were waiting, green and wide, A boat that skimmed the water’s hide. Alligators drifting slow, Turtles sunning in a row, Mosquito armies on patrol — They feasted well, bless their soul. Second‑hand stores with hidden finds, A mall to wander, unwind your mind. LongHorn steak, Waffle House charm, Mexican spice, Korean warmth from a gas‑station arm. A café stop to round it out — A food‑tour trip, without a doubt. Your dogs were safe at Mineola’s care, While you explored the Southern air. Four days of clothes, two rounds of wash, Gym visits once each — travel posh. Breakfast daily, except the last, Early flights come cruel and fast. But beds were soft, the nights were kind, And you came home with peace of mind. Magic boosters in your pack, Three Foundations — cardboard crack. A trip well‑lived from start to end, With Dylan, memories, and time to mend.
