Poetry Break, Still Thinking Over "The Great Gatsby"

Not sure how I feel about this poem. I originally wrote it in 2005, when I was with my first girlfriend. I've reworked it several times.

Death By Stereo
A Long Drive and One Song Played, Continuously

Your concentration shifts
From the scene
Outside the window
Of snow-covered trees and things
To words being sung
Through the car speakers

Fog has dressed the windows
My hand in yours
Gripping you tight
Like the pillow I grasp at night
Afraid I've already lost you

Your hand is on the door
We've arrived at our destination
The porch lights stand
Like armed guards at attention

When you look in my direction
Your green eyes penetrate my soul
Like the lyrics to my favorite song
Played for you, continuously
On the long drive home

The front door to your fortress
Acts like a barricade
I will not be granted permission to enter
Your king and queen have kept it locked
From peasant intruders

As the song repeats, again
I ask what you think
"It's beautiful and tragic."

Your lips quiver from the cold
My heart fills as I am told
"It hurts to grow old."