The sky's full of paint, the reds and the blues
scattered and fading to a night time hue.
The bushes' a blur, and the trees don't seem real,
there's only you with your hands on the steering wheel.
Soon everything's black but the cars floating past,
your face has a glow from the lights on the dash.
You turn the radio off so we're left in the hush,
that happens when the volume is turned up too much.
There in the night is your voice lone but clear,
a sound that makes the miles disappear.
Against the brightening sky, we see a carnival
frozen but for the ferris wheel spinning around.
The fogs' whispy fingers rolls it through with a plea:
early morning rosary.
Your lips turn up in a faint little smile,
you speak for the first time in a while.
"Don't they look tired when they move in the day?"
"I wonder if anyone's on it?" I say.
There in the morning is your voice lone but clear,
a sound that makes time disappear.
I know that I will walk away,
and that I will not be coming back again.
I suppose we're through, but I want you to know
that I love you.
The carnival is well out of sight,
and through the trees streams golden sunlight.
Somehow the morning feels kind of sad,
I run my fingers up your arm
to take your hand.