time: 4:09pm
music: cold water - damien rice
mood: hot.
Count stars below a somber whispered sky
And take within the midnight milky haze
Rapture clouds while my broken lovers lie
Awake and fly in the distant light daze
Three notes swell like a gale to stall my course
and part your door by virtue of its grain
into a veil of swirling golden chords.
Shall I define a singer in my brain?,
with velvet skin, and draped in marble cloth?
Your song alone could shape from shapeless stone
creative spark, the angels' and artists' both.
My entry will spill a blush across soft pale tones,
though wonder beyond thought skips past your door;
but proved poetic justice blind.
Soft breath like bellows nurtures to a roar
the fire in the forge beneath my mind;
though naught I dream could fill your crystal shoes,
I'll stay, write here
.
.
.
.
.
.
Now, sing to me.
