The Right Turn

Dawn drive at 6 AM.
It is a rare to be so tired and so awake.
I keep my eyes on the road,
keep my focus where it needs to be.
The morning opens before me,
yellow light breaching the treeline,
cutting through the thin veil of muted color.
It is too early for hopes and dreams,
too late to try and forget
the empty passenger seat,
the loneliness that passes for conversation.
She liked it here,
among the trees and the hills.
One can look off into infinite space
and be caught off guard by a sense of awe
as strong as any cup of black coffee.
I take this early drive the best I can,
ignoring the cup of coffee that
remains untouched,
working hard to keep my eyes
focused on the road.

Another turn,
and I would find myself heading
towards my memories.
I ignore the turn,
regret the decision immediately
and take one quick look at
the hills choked by mist.
They are as I remember,
and for I moment I see her there,
feel her fingers wrapped in my own
and for the first time in a long time,
I entertain the idea that the morning
would be complete if only for the
company of another.

I roll down the window,
a cold blast of air cutting at my skin
and toss the coffee out the window.
It was a temporary solution,
to a problem that has become
part of the morning drive at 6 AM.