The false starts
Were taking toll
Buying up spaces in my crowded heart
And the strangest thing was the pinging of another
Near, but far

The taste in my mouth,
The feel of the ground,
The ocean at my back,
The heart in an Adams town

The furthest heart
A million miles away
Yet here we are, at a thousand six hundred and fifty eight

You left the sweetest space with room for growth
You watered my heart and left your seeds
All in a beautiful plan to have me grow into the man I need to be

Every trial I bring to a stall
With every torn start,
The best part,
Is but a twelve hour drive for these two beating hearts