The stranger of the night
I always wonder, when a car drives past,
Where they are going, how long the journey will last.
Or who they are, the life they have had,
What memories they’ve had, both happy and sad.
I walk the main road, in the dead of night,
With streetlights oozing, their burnt orange light.
The car goes by, with headlights beaming,
A xenon light, bright white and gleaming.
It rolls on by, and into the dark,
To show bright red light, on passing trees bark.
Then it will appear, in my interested head,
Why the person is driving, and not in bed.
Why the person drives, on the lonely blue night,
Why comfort kisses them, through dashboard light.
I get into my bed, feeling some ease,
That people are awake, through the moment they seize.
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