When the clouds are low, that's when it's the best. I cruise the open road alone. Then my mind wanders as far as it dares.
Dreams of what could be, of what is impossible, of reality. Tossing out reality I reach farther. What if? Why not?
Chained to the baggage I've accumulated for half a century I ache with the load, but slowly break free with every mile I cross. The visions in my head span the distance of all I can see and beyond.
To dream feels like flying.