The evening draws to a close
Excuses are made and we
- say our goodbyes
On the drive home
you sleepily tell
- me you love me
I smile, soft, bemused
ask 'why? ', not
- that you say
But why, after all these years
why do you
- still love me?
I cannot think of reasons anymore
perhaps because
- it is so late
Though perhaps also it's
that we no longer
- need reasons
When we were strangers still
we did, as love was
- spiced with fear
But do we now? I ask, and turn
to see your reply
- but you are sleeping
- head on seatbelt.
Stefan nnn
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-drive-home/
