You’re driving.
The roads are autumn lined
And the windows down
Because it’s warmer today.
A hand making shapes in the breeze
And the trees are
Finished
In a  blur of crimson gold
And Neil young is singing
About a man who is old.
I still want those cowboy boots
Finally
I look up but you frown, avoid my gaze
And drive past the tack shop again!
Castles being set ablaze
Endings aren’t just for rainy days.