She drove ahead, glued to the white lines on tarmac,
no sweeping glances filled her eyes with his lanky frame.
His heart was laden, heavy with the weight of loss,
the loss of innocence, which made him feel alive.
Dreams woven in thinnest silk, of being together as man and woman,
dreams of a future untold , with kids playing in the backyard pool.
First the pool gave way and later the backyard,
the kids and wife followed soon after.
He was a driftwood again, forsaking his love, searching the mighty blue,
to fill the emptiness he felt every morning he opened his eyes.
Clutching the dreams to her cold bosom, to be the woman and not just one,
in search of her own reasons to live, rather than be a wave in the driftwood's sail.