The Parking Lot
The words don’t come easily for me
When I write about you.
You’re this patch of sunlight
On a cold, wet day.
I’m thinking,
“Thank you”
As I drive away.
“Thank you
for not trying
to kiss me.”
I know you probably didn’t even want to
Kiss me.
I’m just glad you didn’t give it a shot
Because I want to know that I’m more
Than a shot in the dark,
A clay pigeon in the sky
For lonely hearts to aim at.
The words aren’t coming very easily,
But I need to say
“Thank you”
In more ways than I can count
Or tally or remember.
I didn’t understand
Real friendship
Until you drove past sleeping houses
And under flickering streetlamps
On a cold night in January
Because you knew
A long drive was exactly what I needed.
I need to say,
“Thank you”
For being someone
I can believe in.
“Thank you”
For loving me
Beyond bad days
And sarcastic comments.
“Thank you”
For seeing me
Instead of just
Looking.
“Thank you”
For understanding
And not just listening.
You’re this patch of sunlight
On a cold, wet day.
The words aren’t coming easily,
But with you, sometimes
The words just aren’t enough.