Foggy Mountain Drive

Twilight becomes daylight,
from damp fields -
fog of never here nor there,
ghostly future impressions,
spiderwebs holding onto hopeful promises of distant conversations;
It's shimmering expectation,
a romanticized past that beats on as we drive
down the side of winding roads:
To see there is nothing to see;
to expect there is nothing to expect -
like the wet, mirrored leaves,
love is just a reflection letting go in all directions

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