We drove for hours, under the watchful eye of the moon.

I was silent on the back seat, knees under my chin, staring at the glaring white circle.

Calmed and comforted by the wakefulness of the world around me,

I pressed my face against the cold glass of the window;

straining to see into dimly lit living rooms,

desperate to catch a glimpse of another nocturnal creature

Then suddenly, still stalked by the waning moon,

The Journey

A Traveller's Poem

We drove for hours, under the watchful eye of the moon.

I was silent on the back seat, knees under my chin, staring at the glaring white circle.



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