The Storm

The road blurred in the storm
when we drove home last December.
Splashes and smears: the way forward
in pastel colours smudged grey
by music and rhythm of wipers
and thunder. There was
also that song on the radio
that leaned on our hearts
with colours of home
like a secret lover. We listened -
hushed as a dream, still as statues
too afraid to wake themselves and wander,
and perhaps too afraid to realise
how homesick we were all along.