I wish every bump in the road
Was a towering alp

Face lit by the sun
From basement to scalp

Should each crack on the asphalt
Become deep fissured cleft

I wouldn’t care much
Or feel particularly bereft

If the train should pass
Across the tracks on our way

My hand could stay in yours
While we wait the delay

Anything to keep you
From leaving much too soon

Another hour, minute, second
Just a handful or teaspoon