Driving Home Sunday Night

The moon looks huge

So close to the ground

An orange orb

As it glows

Behind bluish clouds

 

We’re driving down

The motorway

And the headlights

Turn the world a

Dull orange

 

My eyes follow

The silhouetted

Trees and I let

The dread,

Always just below

The surface of my

Consciousness,

Overwhelm me.

 

I hate driving home

On a Sunday night.

Reviews

[Beatrice Mars]

hmmm I like this... I like how you start with beautiful description and end with saying how much you hate it...I love the third stanza though, you can feel everything overflowing! And you do it with such simple words! How???