a yearn to leave home

the stalks sway
and the wind picks up
I look to the west
the dust sweeping open roads
its what we thirst
counting the thorns of a rose
yearning for that midnight sky
cleansed in the cold dawn
singing into the smoke
all left
was a face and its beauty
cling to me
shield me from the open road wind
and guide me
into an embrace
(safe)
drawing traces in the sand
I've tasted the rain
(here and there)
it tastes the same
it tastes the same