going home

it takes time
to drive home, the curve
of mountains,
the slice of road through rocks.
a coined moon,
as silver and polished
white
as any moon seen.
it takes time to get home,
to find my way
through
tunnels, over the rattled bridges,
past the farm yards,
the lights already
out as everyone but you
is asleep.
it takes time to get home,
to travel alone,
the miles clicking past,
as you wait
by the window,
patiently for me.