The Track


I’m on the right track,

seated in this empty row.

I fear the safety belt won’t click close.

I’m on the right track,

with so many places to go

you’re behind me but this it what I chose.


We were on the right track,

but we turned too soon.

The trip wasn’t meant for us two.

You’d try to squeeze me in,

push down the bar till it pinched.

I forgot why I wanted this.


You pulled me onto your lap,

the track dipped and swerved.

Our track had more than curves.

Stopped atop a drop, you lifted the bar.

Tumbling forward, I lost sight of who you are.



I sit alone in this row waiting for you to return.

You too miss the easy curves.

I’m on the right track,

onward without you.

I am ahead but this is what you choose.


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