Familiar

The radio’s light

Cuts deep.

I peer into the distance

Desperate for a new road,

Buried in the familiar

Escaping me for miles.

I have waited impatiently for the day that

I find the end.

The darkness is so close,

Just beyond the headlights.

I could grab it,

But do I want to hold it in my hand?

The end of the road draws near

And I allow the steady melody

Of old tires on old road

Lull me to sleep,

As I accept what is to come.

Might I grab the wheel?

Or do I let it bend and turn

With the curves of this perilous path?

Send me over every rut and ice patch.

I will shake and I will slide

But I will not grab the wheel.

I am but a spectator.

The scenery flies by.

I want nothing more than to open the window and jump.

I will let the wind catch me in its cool hand

And throw me over every hill and ocean

That this world has to offer.

I would open the window, and

I would, fly with the wind, and

I would see the world,

But it is locked.

So, I will sit,

And watch,

And learn, because,

This road is not my own.