Breathing Ghost

Mach 1 Mustang up the two lane highway, heading north.
Holding on to the hope of her at my side for all it’s worth.
New England is golden and bleeding red in Autumn,
the bleeding out of the green as the leaves fall in the rain.
How much farther can I go before all the hope is lost.

The sun is dim and a watered down golden hue.
The cold is in the air, biting my skin, when I sleep
on the side of the highway, my jacket thin and useless.
I’ll lose fuel before Rochester I know, wear down my shoes.
Will she be there when I come walking in like a living ghost?

It’s all spread into darkness and loss and a loss at what to do.
She was in Rochester when the lights when out and hope faded.
Is she still there? I push the car harder and harder to New York.
I’ve got to find her again, I’ve got to have her at my side in Winter.
I’m walking dead, a breathing ghost, if she’s not there, waiting for me.

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