The Drive

Painting a picture,

An endless highway.

Lonely, 

Yet never alone.

Watching the clouds 

As the sky meets the road,

Reaching, 

A void beneath your fingertips.

Wispy hairs brush your forehead,

Swept around by the breeze,

Eyes blinded

By the sun's fiery glare,

But all you can think about 

Are her lips against yours.

Every song on the radio 

Speaking of her.

Daydreaming,

As the scenery flies by, 

Longing for her safe return.

Trying to enjoy the drive, 

Yet failing,

Distracted,

Because all you see is her face.-