Forty Miles of Bad Road

I see you in the clouds and feel you in the wind that tousles my hair. Each passing post springs anew in the beckoning horizon. Miles before me, road noise soothes my churning mind and the white lines fidelity holds my wheels true. On, to distant mountains of faint promise that wait in a veil of mist I'd once seen in the blue of your eyes. Miles with me. Neither judging nor condemning, my wheels kick the dust from yesterday and eagerly caress the virgin tarmac. Tomorrow fills my windscreen, as yesterday diminishes in the rear view mirror. I ride the black snake’s back, sidewinding to new horizons. Miles before me.