Chords on fire. Stinging prints with tiny callouses. Something red and something sweet. Voices behind pearly whites.
Silver trucks in front of me. Black holes behind me. Left turn and race home. Fidgety fingers and short little breaths. Dots all over. Dots all over. Dots all over. A late night phone call.
Roads stretched out and going forever. Music tickles my ears. Dancing sprites and smiling tots and proud, proud mums and dads. Stage fright conquered. A ham with a kiss. An ice cream shop. A chance to see, to smile.
A long-overdue conversation. Walking back in time and smelling the potent past. A rickety box to take and make loud. Prospects of more road, more time--something so fragile and precious.
Roots and leaves tugging at me, I tugging at them. Sun likes to caress me. Likes to brown me. Likes to burn me. I let it.
People I admire. People I judge. People I hug. People I watch. People I love. People everywhere.