Driving fast enough for butterflies in the stomach
Over rolls in roads that cut the back wood sticks.
And every time I turn my broken body back this way
I think of the possibilities if I had only stayed.
Would we make a home in a small house on a big field of green?
Could we watch the stars shine through the front porch screen?
And when our days fill with tired and strained,
could you make me laugh and smile again?
So tell me how would it be, if I never left the space right next to you?
If I never set my sights for away from all I knew?
Watching faces greet me with a sly sideways smile
slanted lips saying “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
And, blushing, I meet the witnesses to my past wrongs.
Now, I remember why I haven’t been here in so long.
Because time spent constantly concerned about drawing others’ stares
prevents lungs from filling up with fresh clean air.
So, in a town too small for more than one point of view,
the breathless step in the direction of where the wind blew.
That’s why, we didn’t make that home in a small house on a big field of green.
I was off making a life in places you’ve never seen.
And when my days are filled with tired and strained,
I count on me to bring a smile to my lips again.
So, ask me if I could be occupying the space right next to you,
and I’ll tell you honestly, I haven’t got a clue.