Travelers

Leaves are abandoning their sky-high roosts en masse,

playful gusts of incipient autumn playfully nipping

them from their branches.

I scuff sneakers through droves of their fallen comrades,

watching as you make a tipsy mad dash down this darkened road,

lugging a backpack on an adorable set of shoulders. 

Professionally and scholastically I appear to be approaching a precipice,

the depth of which has yet to be determined.

My life is in flux, and continents are colliding beneath me.

With you, however, I am at rest.

You are a tranquil gulf in this frothing ocean of uncertainty,

a limpid pool for me to relax in.

So as you reach the end of the street and turn back to face me,

cigarette in mouth,

I cannot help but grin in gratitude.

I appreciate the time with you,

as I find out who I am

and where I am going.

I still have no idea where that destination may be,

but I sincerely hope you arrive there with me.