Saturday, July 18, 2009

He wonders at this ceaseless longing
The thrill of possibilities in those silent hotel rooms
New eyes behind every door
He can almost feel the road beneath his feet
The staccato white lines of the highway flashing by
As he bends to brush her hair gently from her face
“Sleep” he whispers softly
Unwritten songs humming in his head as he tells her
He’ll be there when she wakes
But his heart tenses at the lie
He will be miles gone when she opens her eyes to the dawn
The wanderlust tied to his every nerve compels him
Chances and regrets rise before him like the moon
And he is gone again in the night