Devoting self to voice for a moment
In trying to interpret this introspection
Noticing the land ahead lays bare, dead in winter
With memories of golden shoots of grain to haunt the road
and the passengers within the constraints of the pavement
It is here that our World becomes isolated within the embrace of Love
As ‘Maxwell’s Silver Hammer’ plays on the stereo
Adding to the absurdity of contrast in us versus everything else
I find myself loving you more with experience
Perhaps it’s only when I stop thinking to take notice
That this is what happiness means to me
I am grateful for being on the road ❤
Muse Writer 