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Poem

There's still light down this glistening black road,
a path to travel with the moon shining by my side.
Much like my own way, for some time greatly shadowed -
and yet something shows the way for this quiet ride.

The steadfast celestial guardian ever watches me,
even when its face is hidden by time's flow.
'Twould be the only light by which I could see,
if not for the headlights' soft glow.

Pensiveness seems to be the rule of the drive -
sound is muffled, like it's not allowed entry
on these heavy thoughts through which I strive;
that silver disc, as ever, a silent sentry.

That sound tires make on a road that's just seen rain,
the tiny taps of the drizzle dampening the way.
The red lights in the distance, now moving to a new lane,
the dawn coming far off, yet heralding another day.

The weight of the past in the passenger seat,
showing different faces from my history.
I wonder as I see one in particular on repeat -
when you're alone, do you think of me?

This way comes the inexorable march of that dawn,
and still night's orb watches as I'm vexed by she.
A grey sky overlooks, as one query I yet dwell upon -
when you're alone, do you think of me?

I shake my head as if to dislodge these thoughts,
eager to continue this drive's long quest.
If that's to outrun, or untie, these kind of knots,
I still as of yet cannot truly attest.

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