idle minds
roam empty roads,
feet grow weary
in search of solace,
see the streets where people
would flow from,
driving by
the shuttered stores,
tires grow numb
shaken by bumpy roads,
where is the fun?
it resides within,
the small morsels
of comfort
that we find with
each other,
no need
for lovers
to feel that
you are cared for
no need
for trouble,
to stress over
simple chores
idle minds,
and empty roads,
meet
exhausted tires
and restless soles,
good company outlasts,
shuttered fronts,
in our grasp,
we find what we seek.
