Inspired by "Lights Out, Words Gone," by Bombay Bicycle Club
Driving,
windows down, letting in warm air that hints toward summer.
Damp air blowing my hair
into tangles whipping,
softly stinging my cheeks.
A perfect man to my left, relaxed and happy.
Our little wonder sits in back.
Wide blue eyes
soak up the lush trees towering over us,
cars rushing by.
Sweet soft ears listen
to the buzzing hum of the Stadtwald bugs
to the buzzing hum of the Stadtwald bugs
and to this sweet soft song that soothes like a lullaby.
Plump mouth jibber-jabbers,
chubby fingers tug at socks.
Button nose smells the air,
not yet knowing the earthy smell
that announces a spring shower;
the type that turns ponds into
blankets of ever-expanding circles
quietly tapping leaves,
almost carefully, gingerly
dropping beads of water onto the ground
or your skin.
We go over the bump into our driveway.
Those blue eyes see me looking at him
and he grins his biggest grin
as we descend into our garage
and are home.
not yet knowing the earthy smell
that announces a spring shower;
the type that turns ponds into
blankets of ever-expanding circles
quietly tapping leaves,
almost carefully, gingerly
dropping beads of water onto the ground
or your skin.
We go over the bump into our driveway.
Those blue eyes see me looking at him
and he grins his biggest grin
as we descend into our garage
and are home.
