My fingers glide down the curves of your shoulder
Bold as trees whispering roots of leaves.
Where have we been where will we go?
Distant horizons, sun setting glow?
Fingertips snaking towering monuments
Sweeping valleys wide-eyed delighted astonishments.
Some trips yet to be seen,
The smell of coconut oil like french fries fallen, seats in between.
Mountains high and hungry like bears,
Soothed by smooth hillside caresses timeless cares
Eroded exploded como lo pasa,
Blended as lines passing highway speed signs.
Empty spaces full of connection
Passing time together no matter the weather.
The twist and turns come as may go,
Bending rivers remind of flow.
Nowhere to go yet to be as the sea,
From Midwest mountains destined to see.
Photo by Jesse Bowser on Unsplash
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