Therapy Bits

Windows down, the air is thick
with sun and jasmine, lazy, slick—
my sister hums and taps the wheel,
barefoot, free, the road surreal.

The heat sticks close, a golden glaze
that dances on the asphalt haze.
We chase the shimmer, slow and wide,
with sweat and laughter side by side.

The radio crackles—some old tune
of teenage summers, late and June—
but here we are, just us in May,
the lake a promise not far away.

Her sunglasses catch streaks of sky,
reflecting clouds that tumble by.
She swerves to miss a pothole’s dip,
then offers me a mango sip.

I feel the wind tangle my hair,
that lake-bound scent of pine and air,
and watch the world blur past our lane—
a mural smeared with light and grain.

We don’t speak much—don’t need to, see?
The road is long, but we agree:
there’s peace in knowing where we’re bound,
with sun above and tires on ground.

Soon sand will crunch beneath our feet,
the water’s hush, the perfect heat.
But for now, this car, this drive, this day—
I’d bottle it all, if I had a way.

Passenger – Word of the Day Challenge