Untitled Poem by Stefan nnn

You, me, and the road.
Nowhere to go,
And no rush to get there.
We ride.

Fantasy and reality tend to differ,
But when you come down to it:
Fantasy, sets the upper bounds
That practicality aims for.

Better to aim for the stars,
And hit the moon.
Than aim for the high street,
And end up in the gutter.

Life is short:
If half-lived.
Long,
If spent.

So I keep telling myself.
Over, And over.
Unconvincingly.