Margaritas On A Rainy Night

Margaritas on a rainy night.

I keep driving,

Hoping to reach somewhere.

Somewhere the roads get narrower,

Somewhere the waves clatter by the rocks,

And crashing sounds fill the empty space,

Within me.

There is a hope,

That puts me to sleep every night,

And I dream of this place,

Where only our silence has a deafening peace,

Where your touch is the only warmth in the cool breeze.

I keep searching,

In empty drawers and overfilled notebooks,

The long days and calm nights,

I keep on going,

Passing homes and trees,

And a false sense of completeness.

Sometimes I stop,

There’s this place I keep coming back to,

It’s the only place that feels closest to home,

And they have margaritas every night.

I thought I could keep coming back,

To find this place in some deep grove or an endless meadow,

But sometimes I feel it’s not the place I yearn for.

I only wish to drive,

Through this endless hope,

To find the narrow road,

Where we feel complete under the endless sky.

-Luke