See my reflection, im counting. Hear hidden noise, muffled talk. I feel this drawing to an end. Feet tapping, faster than they used to. To run, explore, dance. Not to excape. What is there to leave? When all you have is open road. To guide you to places you will one day never leave. Lines that pass infinitive. Like a shooting star, I see your plane in the distance. Is this meant to be luck? Or a glistening farewell?