Into ink

The taxi rumbles down the hill, past trees and houses, through the city centre, and I chat to the driver about this and that, but all the while I check the route in case we go wrong, and all the while I hope the skies stay this azure blue, as it begins to turn to storm blue, hoping I can outrun the inky darkness; even though I can manage, even though I have my cane, even though I know people will help me, I just want to hold onto the sun of independence, before the inky darkness takes that too.