Shiny woodgrain and floorboards run together
as aglets dangle from my feet.
Laces wet, dirty, frayed from the loops will
become soaked when someone knocks my cup over.
I hope this blanket will keep me warm.
But first I must disperse the cold coins
that weigh me down and impair my movement.
Cringing as my engine drags on plowed frozen chunks
we head towards the flowing water
and the mist and the flash
will let us see these dreams forever.
We still look so young, but not too young
to see that I can be wrong sometimes.