Neptune Drive

Neptune Drive was a quiet road,

Where the stars hung low and the wild things spoke.

We carved our names in a crooked tree,

Thought growing up was a guarantee.

You had a look like you’d seen the end,

I had a dream I could not defend.

And somewhere in the middle of that August air,

We lost something we didn’t know was there.

It was a coming of age,

Like a storm with no warning.

We were fire at night,

And ghosts in the morning.

Memory’s a thief with a soft, slow hand—

It rewrites the truth when you try to stand.

We talked big in borrowed jeans,

Drank cheap beer and made dumb schemes.

You said the moon was too far to trust,

And love was a thing you only feel once.

We drove out past the edge of town,

Where the radio died and the world slowed down.

I swear I saw Neptune in your eyes—

A blue that never lies.

Now it’s years and a few regrets,

Half a song and a cigarette.

I hear your laugh in someone’s face,

Then it’s gone without a trace.

It was a coming of age,

Like a page that’s been weathered.

We were too wild to hold,

Too young to know better.

And memory don’t wait, it don’t explain—

It just leaves you standing in the rain.

Neptune Drive is overgrown,

But some part of me still calls it home.