The end of the road is clear to me
The happy-ever-after, the crystal ball's decree
It's the path between I falter on
Typical New England debris
"raised structure", "motorcycles use caution"
Mid-November fog making easy turns so hard to see
I have never been loved like this before,
The casual look almost more than I can bear
So satisfied just to be near your warmth...
So devastated to turn and find you aren't there.
This is not to say I'm new at this-
The up, and down, and disappointment setting in
I've made a career of expecting the worst
And preparing myself for the loss of what could be
But my anecdotes are failing now
Preventing a new entry to the memoirs and fables
I've relied on throughout the years.
I am left, then, staring down the road instead
Hoping the pavement smooths,
Or that the daylight might clear the air.
