Once we hit the highway, she said, “I think we should get married.”
Two hundred miles from home. No stops planned. No one else in the car. No way for me to avoid what this lovely girl said.
Three hours, two people, one question: How much longer did I need to know that she was the one? One thing I knew for certain. She knew how to pick the right moment -- and for her, the right guy.
This is a cherita, that is, a six-line poem that consists of three stanzas — one line in the first stanza, two in the second, & three in the third.
One response to “driver’s seat.”
[…] over me, his hand on my shoulder. "Now you're one with God." I thought I already was. This one is another […]