The sound of being left alone

Soars through these plains

as the ocean washes a mist of reality

upon the poet’s dry brow.

But tarmac leads the way

if one is to walk out of these woods.

I miss your cheeks’ softness as I caress the rugged bark

You can’t see the stars without the dark.

So ahead one must dig

In order to find what was always deep within

Night or day, go astray

As we find ourselves in sin.