Through the windshield now
a supermoon is staring at us,
escaping a handful of gray clouds
that are trying to blanket her in.
Cozy, she never wants to feel.
You are singing with the
I adore how your heart
pets all vintage lyrics.
Your eyes on the road ahead,
your focus on the motion,
my eyes lay lazy
on the rear view mirror:
too many miles we have covered,
too many lives measured in miles.
There is beauty, I remember,
in exploring unknowns so far,
in howling on the wind
without banging at shut memories,
in being lost without disappearing.
You are here. You are singing,
holding my hand like every other day.
I am back, mostly
to who and where I am supposed to be.
The moon is gone for a quick nap
under the gloomy sky over this highway.
After a long break tonight,
the rain takes off her dusty clothes.
I look back once again on the mirror:
blurry details are rain-soaked now.
So far, a sad wind goes slaughtering
some agonies like it promised me.
And I look at you,
I love you, and this journey ahead.
For October. For this autumn rain. For the supermoon. For these ten months of this year. For love.