The day has been long
but the road has an
unusual peace about it.

Lights fly past like stars
and even if I was thoughtful
enough to wish, these are
not the sort to oblige.

Home is almost upon me
and I am grateful.

As thoughts of sleep
invade my thoughts
they are interrupted.

Rubber burns
metal twists
bones break
blood spills,
and the stench of whiskey
stumbles away into the dark.

As the cold washes over me
I cannot help but to think
of you and how I wish
I could have held you one last time,

but these stars are not
the kind to oblige.