He turns the wheel with careful grace

He turns the wheel with careful grace,

familiar roads he knows by heart.

His eyes scan every passing space,

performing some deliberate art.

He checks the mirror, left then right,

a practiced motion, smooth and keen.

He signals long before the light,

composing a predictable scene.

There is no rush, no sudden turn,

just measured progress, steady pace.

A lesson that I had to learn,

reflected in this driving space.

His hands, they grip, they guide, they steer,

and hold the road that brought me here.