What is your mileage?
What distances have you carried yourself?
Tell me of the roads.
Of summer evenings spent gliding on smooth, black asphalt. Tell me about the sounds, harmonizing with the warm thrum of your heart.
Tell me of the beaten paths.
Of midday walks on cracked, uneven sidewalks teeming with life, giving way to budding blades of green, and dandelion dreams.
Tell me how the sun stung your skin, how soft breezes whispered at the nape of your neck.
Share with me the memory of winter mornings past.
Of the biting chill kissing your cheeks as your feet trudged through soft white expanses.
Of the cold that set in your bones as you waited for the bus, and the fat wet flakes that fell in flurries.
Tell me all of it.
About the freedom that spring brings, the buzz of bees and possibilities. The gorgeous lull at 10am and the swell of your soul.
Tell me the way the falling leaves of autumn trees speak to you. How their crunch tickles your mind.
Tell me how October skies dazzle you, while the stars shine, reflected in your eyes.
Spend with me a moment of intimacy. Show me the things beyond the windows to the soul.
Share with me what your odometer reads.
Let me read the map of you.
Started off as a thought in the car, kind of ran away from me as I wrote.