The lamp flickers As it burns through The last of the oil Outside, snow falls A log on the fire I pretend it’s you Covering
Tag: Love
Of Prophets and Rivers
I sat with an old man on a weathered bench near the bank of a section of river most don’t come to anymore. He welcomed
If Only
There was nothing soft about her fragrance That whiskey breath Could peel the chrome off the bumper Of my ’83 Chevy But god-damn I loved
Someday Maybe
I made a promise To an old friend That I’d be back This way someday But a restlessness Sleeps down Inside me Burning questions In
Float Away
I can hold you In my arms And tell you All the lies You’ve been longing To hear And mean Every word I say Because
Too Late
It’s too late For the light to change These adornments Permanent Fixed to the existential Crisis of the moment We find it better To run
