By Thomas Schaal
December 6, 2018
Our flower has been wilting for months now.
The crimson petals now brown,
The buzzing words now still.
The warmth of your hands have become ice
And our adventure is all but over.
I will give you a dance,
A parting gift for what I’ve learned.
Lights will wash over my distaste,
And music over my disgust.
An old truck will save me,
Asphalt to uphold me.
The road will become my deliverance,
And the horizon a hiding place from your tears.
The opinions expressed are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Infuse Student Media or Southwest Baptist University.
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