Dead on my feet
Falling through my ears
like soft, aural snow your
like soft, aural snow your
Voice has a scent
like sweet wine in summer
or dirty whiskey winters
like sweet wine in summer
or dirty whiskey winters
I wish I could
write words across years
across sounds like these
write words across years
across sounds like these
Maybe I won’t but there
will still be your songs
to keep hold of
and wonder at
will still be your songs
to keep hold of
and wonder at
While time draws
strange patterns across my chest
and twilight dancers form
strange patterns across my chest
and twilight dancers form
A figure of eight
head to toe
head to toe
Sunshine
to go
to go
(For Elliott Smith)
No comments:
Post a Comment