I-64 to I-65.

On our way to nowhere,

lemon jelly and the sandman

occupy our minds.

The road goes on forever,

           doesn’t it?

We go on forever,

           don’t we?

           Won’t we?

Two hours in, or maybe

it was three;

blue Kentucky skies

and I’m finally smiling.

Your hand is in mine,

where it belongs.

I am talking about things that

definitely don’t matter;

attempting to converse

about concerns and

I’m in over my head as always.

You lend a hand, and an ear

and the only thing that slips past

my lips that makes any sense is this:

“The only thing that matters to me is you.”

Reviews

[blob blob]

this is sweet poem-perfect last line...
“The only thing that matters to me is you.”
-and I-65-driven it many times
when my little girl was young-
really though--a really lovely poem:)

[Wolfwind Words]

The precious moments of the highway. Wonderfully put together. Well balanced between imagery and emotion.

Great ink!
Wolfie