With headphones jammed on my head
Music blaring into my ears
I tried to drown the voices
Those that chastise and jeer
That I should ache on a journey
On the same route
But without you, without you
I stare out at the meadows,
Rolling by, with sunshine spilling
Into the car
With me desperately making inane conversation.
“Is that not the willowherb that edges the fields?
The yarrow and the yellow celandines?
The purple heather that clothes the hillside
What is the latin name, I wonder?”
My mind busy trying
To ignore the sinews of my being
Telling me that I m missing you, missing you
Where is my inner equilibrium now?
They have failed me miserably;
My sang froid
Should I sit cross legged
Try and expel you from my thoughts
With each breath I draw?
While here I am, still prattling on
Pretending to take in the border scenery.