We travel the long road clad in concrete looking over the horizon waiting to see if just over the hill our journey will be complete. And I'm seeing field after field left barren after the first snowfall, We along with plants bide our time waiting for the first thaw. Passing by the ruined homes finally brought down by the passage of time watching their stories fade into nothing can be considered a crime.
As wood gives way to rot we ask the world for more time answering us with “It rather not”. The world is bigger than I thought, seeing the land mile by mile, as valleys dip and dive mountains and hills rise and fall. Seeing the forest edge growing closer like a wall.
Looking at the sky at one moment is blue the next grey, the clouds do their best impressions of birds and planes we would argue what was which but they were all just the same.
Counting tree by tree because it’s one of the few things to pass the time and after a while, there is no one who is better than me at counting trees.
Every now and then I see the sun peak pass the clouds too shy to shine so the clouds soak a crimson hue as if being on cue.
The skies bathed in a warm glow making your heart skip a beat so out of habit I keep counting beat by beat a reminder that time is still passing.
While on the long road you could confuse it for space because time chooses to move at its own pace. Traveling through a wanderer's paradise day and night we take our time exploring.