The Wanderer

Raindrops gently strike the windshield just as the wipers take them away

As we get in the back of the car, my hand finds yours like its home

I look over to you and memorize your face

as if its the last time I’ll see it.

Your dark black hair cascading down your shoulders

The eyeliner outlining your deep brown eyes

You’re looking forward for a moment

and then turn towards me

to find that I’m already meeting your gaze.

You smile and time stops

A perfect painting.