Wayne Orr

The engine hums a quiet hymn,
your silhouette—the dusk grows dim.
Dashboard constellations glow,
map lines soft on radio.

Your laughter stitches through the air,
a song no highway could compare.
Steering wheels turn, but here we stay—
the world dissolves in chrome and gray.

Each mile melts like sugar spun,
horizons blurred, two hearts as one.
Your hand in mine, the curves we trace,
this car, a shrine to borrowed grace.

Roads end, but not this fragile thread—
wherever stop, you’re home instead.
The engine sleeps; the stars align.
Forever’s just your breath near mine.