January 1, 2013
We drive up the winding grey road
Feeling ourselves get lost within the green
As if the trees will never end
And hoping they never will
As if this drive will never end
And hoping it never will
Time doesn’t exist out here
Sometimes we’ll pass the river
And see the deep blue fade into white at the beginning of a rapid
And there is no sound but the whirr of the truck’s wheels on the road and the music playing softly, getting engraved into our memory.
And sometimes we fall asleep
Because our eyes hurt from imagining when this moment ends
When time comes back
Because the trees come to an end
And the song stops playing
And this moment comes to an end
We fade out of the forest
Out of this moment
And time starts again

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