.
.
let’s hit the road,
no need to pack.
we’ll take your car —
four bald tires
will get us there,
no thoughts to turning back
where highway
hits horizon
the drifter’s moon
hangs high.
our gypsy hearts
and gypsy souls
keep us on the fly
the mirror
shows the city lights
fading without trace
we’ll sleep beneath the cedars.
you’ll wake
in my embrace
we’ll clamber
rocky cliffs,
bathe in woodland streams,
discover the mountain pool
remembered
from our dreams
no plans lie
before us,
no thoughts of where we’ll stay.
with open hearts
and open minds,
we will find our way
