Skipping Stonehenge

Maggie said they'd skip Stonehenge,
In the end she wished they'd veered around
The tunnel vision walks along moss ridges and when

Ray said they'd do dinner
In the dipping light of castle shade,
The damp of battlefields snaked up their ankles and then

Maggie said they'd find magic
In the hills that sang in ballad brogue
The screech of empty wind drilled hollow hearts and when

Ray said they'd leave longing 
In the house on the plains that was drowning in death,
Their lost boy clung each mile apart, implored them to come home.

Maggie raked her nails across a seeping scar of guilt.
Ray rewound their baby's window fall, caught his future, saved their life.  

They both sat in the rental car. 
They dreamed of Stonehenge dominoes, the 'what ifs' of an accidental dance.