Hold the map

She asked me where I see myself
In five to ten years later
She stirred me in the right direction
From her point of view
And asked me if I saw you

I said I would be driving 'round
safely holding the wheel
and I wouldn't mind having you
in the passengers seat
to make my travels sweet

But everyday there is a fight
between your sweetness and my pride
It's not easy to admit
that I want you in that seat
and even harder to accept
that I'd trust you with the map
to lead me
to where you want to be.



Poetry by zana
Read 406 times
Written on 2020-05-15 at 01:50

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