Day 21 — NaPoWriMo

The Morning Commute

The songwriter sings in the car
that it’s love that makes it all work.
Listening while driving in the fog,
following the tail lights ahead of me
I can’t but hope he’s right:
that I will find true love,
that it will set the world straight,
be more important than the job
I’m driving through the fog to
for reasons I can’t explain anymore.
When the chorus comes around again
I can’t help but sing along
the words rolled up with the tune,
the hope strung up with the words,
the car coming out of the fog.
It’s another morning.
Here’s the highway.
Cruise control, on.