Western Lights

I’ve been far too gloomy lately. Here’s something happy:


Baby, I’m tired of seeing this weight on you.
You look tired and I think I’ve seen enough
of the way you grind your bones to grow
the things that didn’t need to grow so much.

Pack that vinyl bag, because we’re moving on.
I’ll wear my old boots, brown and scuffed,
they look just like me – broken, eyelets gone,
worn-in, but not worn down, the Me you love.

Route 66, early in the fall, we finally made it.
Looking to find the Sunrise, Western Lights,
like a fireball in the sky, we watched it glowing.
This love between us glows just as bright.

Slapping our beat on the dash, air-cymbals
crashing in time to your whipping hair.
Shining eyes, red cheeks, and forever smiles,
we’re facing the Westward Sunrise’s glare.


© CGT, 2017.

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