In all my sweet thoughts
Of riding shotgun
Words caught on tongue
Music at your fingertips 

Where shall we go from here?
To the coast, surely?
The mountains, sublime
Some cabin where we can hide

Gather imaginary adventures 
Cast them on the wind
Like a flock of shorebirds
Headed to the North Pole

The only passenger, am I
Is one of time
We have journeyed years
Apart, words odometer of miles