Haunted by Tail Lights

She doesn't stand at the door.
She doesn't watch people drive away.
She's not haunted by tail lights
trailing off down the dark country road
under a half-moon, neither waning or waxing.

She doesn't hold on too long.
She doesn't want the off-balance
of the early release, the tumble
seeking gravity. When she turns,
she just keeps going; no need to
check over her shoulder; rather use her
resources to shield the glare of the sun
streaming into her eyes.