More of the same

The road stretches
To a blur
The horizon
Shows no hope
Hurtling towards
More of the same
Stones rattle
And spray noisy dust
Sonny and Cher
Croon on the radio
I stare at my feet
Pressed against the dash
Chipped dark paint
A ragged healing scar
Missed blonde hairs
Glint at sunset
I examine your profile
Crinkled eyes
And dry lips
The mole on your neck
I close my eyes
Sigh
And smile
As we hurtle
Towards
More of the same

Sharon Paine August 2015