A half hour from home
tales of the Fiat 500
An unexpected warmth, A slowly spreading glow Like a gentle rub on the temples My shoulders lower and loosen Through the push and the shove And the snow I relax my grip On what everyone else might think On everything i thought mattered On the call and the why And kitchen sink As I drink in the familiar I anticipate the anticipation Of being where all of me Is known and shown It’s like I stop feeling alone A half hour from home
