Another Year

Sweet Sixteen, the strangest rainbows in her hair. Another day, another year, but- Would she really care? If the stars burned brighter? Or the rain hit harder? Is it really all that there? And on the page, there is still nothing, although her mind is nude. Is it the stubbornness of her pen, or her thoughts that words intrude? And as we rode on the highway, stoned -and going nowhere. Her thoughts escaped and fluttered away. Just another year to dare. I'm missing out on nothing.