I count the cars as they drive past the window <br />Four blues since you said everything was fine <br />The rain flows from the street into the gutters <br />Over both the yellow broken lines <br /> <br />One red, one black pass by into the distance <br />Words come much slower than the falling rain <br />And deep below where pipes have dreamed of reaching <br />I wish I called you by a different name <br /> <br />And now I think that cars are always driving <br />To somewhere while their wheels still can spin <br />Fourteen have passed in total since my asking <br />Where have you been?<br /><br />Ben Paynter<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/she-was-late/
