delicately she balances on the edge
of the crisp sheets of the motel room's bed
wearing her hoodie and jeans fashionably
not speaking except in the nervous fidget of her hands
but its her homespun beauty that is the tale to be told
truth of her breath catching when she thinks she hears him in the distance
truth of her writing his name in the dew of dawn on the windshield
with the promised hearts and rainbows forever dream

its a little past two am
in the motel next to the highway
the door is open
letting in the ever present scent of diesel
and late summer georgia night air
she sits in the pool of light on the motel room bed
looking out into the darkness next to the highway
there are no tears
no words
they have long since rushed out and washed away
now there is only the waiting
for the sound of his truck
his boots on the gravel

she sits in the pool of motel light
ignoring the fading glories of the night
ignoring the fading glories of her youth
he will come for her
and everything will be right