the drive home

it's cold.
grey.
the wind is harsh,
stings like shards of glass
against my skin.
I have tears
in my eyes as I drive
away.
heading home
this late in the day.
I put the radio on,
the song doesn't help the mood.
nor does the traffic.
the horns.
the fists of clouds,
violet in the dusk,
an angry blue. I don't know
why I have tears
in my eyes, but I do.
they roll down my cheeks.
I don't wipe them away,
I let them come.
it's a good cry.
some days are better than
others,
like memories, and
some you wish would fade.