Ronda
Wobbling wheels and a neon glare, the clock keeps tick-tick-ticking time,
Every mile a little dare, a test of patience in a midnight line.
Rush hour saints and sinners blur, I’m living in a yellowed glow,
Signals flash in mind’s rear-view, while the streetlights steal the show.
Just a breath, just a beat, I’m counting down the minutes left to go,
But you drift into my lane like a dream I’ll never know.
Keep your distance, keep your pace, I’m begging for a reason to stay sane,
Don’t you know I’m chasing commas, not a reckless chain-reaction flame.
In the slow lane, I’m singing loud, a little prayer to make it through,
Let the highway hum the rhythm of a patient heart that’s true.
A chorus of horns in the rearview choir, they practice pure dissonance,
Window down, cold air bites—someone sped away without a glance.
I’m talking to the dashboard, arguing with fate’s loud, stubborn grin,
If speed is a virtue, then patience wears the crown and wins.
Just a breath, just a beat, I’m counting down the minutes left to go,
But you vanish like a rumor when the green light starts to glow.
Keep your distance, keep your pace, I’m begging for a reason to stay sane,
Don’t you know I’m chasing commas, not a reckless chain-reaction flame.
In the slow lane, I’m singing loud, a little prayer to make it through,
Let the highway hum the rhythm of a patient heart that’s true.
Headlights paint the night with silver, dawn’s a rumor on the horizon,
I’m a traveler with a stubborn tune, steering through a pulse that’s risin’.
Breathe in, breathe out—let the engine settle down the doubt,
Every mile’s a meditation, every red light clears the route.
I won’t surrender to the chaos, I’ll choreograph this ride,
Tiny victories in the mirrors, kept alive by stubborn pride.
Keep your distance, keep your pace, I’m finding peace in this drawn-out lane,
Turning frustration into a melody that won’t let anger break the chain.
In the slow lane, I’m singing loud, a beacon through the fog of rush,
Let the road remember mercy, where patience isn’t just a hush.
So here I am, miles from the start, eyes on the horizon’s amber glow,
If speed’s your compass, mine is steadiness, and that’s how I’ll roll slow.
And when the anthem of tires fades to a quiet, long goodbye,
I’ll carry the rhythm of this lane—where calm can finally fly.
