He is driving, doing what he said he would, as long as things and the weather turned good. He is driving away. Far from me. free is him and lonesome I shall be.
It was his time to finally go, "Been here to long, got to hit the road", secretly and desperately longing not to see him leave. Driving through the winters rain and snow, upon desolate roads and past high plateaus.
Across the sea, that little island parts him from me. I’m on the other side holding on. Perhaps I'll move like he has done, not because of him or anyone.
I know Life will not begin until it has begun, 19 years in the making and I'm still waking from this illusion. It can be hard when nothing fits right, all muddled and confusion.
when will do what I said I would? Don’t ask me again, I’ve said more than I should.
About the Creator
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