They called it the road of stars years ago,
But she still doesn't seem to feel the good.
After the rock-hard regret of her mother,
I guess it's good to leave home to someone
Who left us but will never say goodbye to her.
His dedicated poetry is her bliss, alone but for
Her earned college account and her father's money,
Little and only for things she doesn't need.
Without them she is nothing, even when we
Try so hard not to let her leave us with him.
She is the sun that they cover up in the late hours of the day,
And she is the high-school bully type of cool
On this last afternoon when she finally leaves for good.
She may allow herself to bask in his tall and quiet love,
But she never wants to talk about the future.