When Will You Be Back, Dad?

The whistling of the wind squeezing through the crack of a window,
For the convenience of my father, as he flicks his ashes onto the dusty road,
Swirling around the tires, engulfing the power of the hefty tanker.
Destination,
Unknown, but does that really matter?
These several days are enough to last me until next visit.
Who knows when that will be?
Does it really matter?
All that matters is that I learn his ways, so I can be just like him,
My father.
I want to trust him, but in the silence of this refreshing ride, I realize what he has really done for me.
Days,
Months,
Waiting,
For something that could never come,
But how could I know?
As I'm left in this dome of doubt, my mother is here for me;
She's always been here for me.
If only he could be here for me.
Does it really matter?
Yes, it does.