View from the highway February 8

Blink as if everything is magic,
and you have all the clues.
You will walk down the bridge,
you will smell the flowers.
Traffic will cover you,
you’ll barely be visible
from where I am.
Still, the small titbits – grass, thorns, allergies
stuck in your dress
will seem so close to me.
As if I am sleeping in your laps,
feeling your warmth.
All day searching for a place to hide
to call my own…

What is the meaning of wandering;
having as much faith in half-truths as lies?