Back Road

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Summer afternoon, not a single place to be,
A crystal clear, beautifully blue sky hangs above the dirt dusted windshield,
Around us, an empty back road surrounded by rolling fields of golden grasses and cleaned cotton stems,
Dust flies behind the worn tires of your smoke colored truck,
The radio is softly playing our favorite music,
Old, gravel filled voices pour from it, singing songs to which we know all the words,
Your focus seems to be on the winding road ahead, but I know that your thoughts rest on me,
Your hand has a steady grip on the wheel, while the other laying carefully on my knee,
My hair flies wildly from the warm breeze and the scent of tilled soil and the songs of cicadas slip into the open window,
I tried to steal your old ball cap, but you simply took it off and placed it on my head with a quick kiss and slight smile,
I rest my feet on the dash and take in the golden drops of afternoon sun,
I sigh and look at  you, here in the quiet of a truck cab, here in the safety of your presence, here on a forgotten dirt road going nowhere, I find there’s no place i’d rather be.

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