I stare at the bare trees along these  streets.
Some houses run down but some stand tall and pretty.
The potholes in the pavement shake my car and wake me from my hazy thoughts.
A cracked window and a wind tunnel in my ear.
The air feels cold but the sunshine warms me.
There is beauty in it’s imperfection, and maybe I can relate.
Tiny buds forming in the ground on this cool April morning.
I carry my routine day in, day out
The comfort of familiarity. And the craving for more.
Like Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers”, the need to be free.
Holding this town like a blanket, security and warmth.
The classic go or stay.
Take a chance or be a coward.
The clouds like loose cotton swallowing me whole.
Like magic. Watch me disappear.