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Why don't we
Crack a window
And drive for hours past
The waxing moon.
Acoustics at the decibels
Of a sincere compliment
We could sing our lungs out, onto the highway
And gaze endlessly into our eyes'¦
The ones we seem to share;
Not caring that we are
Past ninety
And only seen as ghosts
Of a glowing flatland.
We are gone by the
Dawning smile of the sun.
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Another nice one - I wouldn't capitalize Dawning in the last line - but other than that - I liked it a lot. Coming from flat land myself I could see this perfectly.
