Mud covered your scuffed-up shoe soles.
Wind bit your numb nose and lips.
You pulled my hood over a short mess of hair and shuddered against me.
Your rucksack tugging on your back like an anvil,
Discarded tree branches snagging our bruised ankles, slicing them open,
Crimson soaking our socks.
Quiet houses decorate the green trees as cars and motor bikes fly by.
The road narrows.
No sidewalks exist here.
There are no cars, so we walk in the middle along the white line.
Horses ran free behind tall grasses and lavender flowers,
The sky a gorgeous rose gold and baby blue mix.
And as we reach your front door,
We give our "goodnight"'s to each other.
You quietly kiss my cheek,
Pale moonlight now shining through dark grey clouds above us.
And you smile at me,
Something so special and rare.
And your eyes seem to whisper,
This is my stop.
