Red skies.
The light turned green.
The gap was small.
A flash
sped between a
Mercedes-Benz,
a Tesla too,
a rushing has-beens BMW.
A quick side check
and I see you pause:
White hair. Grey specks.
Looking back for just cause.
The last time I saw you I’m sure
t’was at the cemetery,
but on that we cannot tarry.
Another mile you see
and I’ll be home.
Your dark eyes a gift – my short poem.
“Still here.” “Still here.”
Still here I smile
and rush on.