Fine. My shoes are off my feet.
I see you there, as eyes shall
never lie to save your hair
in curls of russet madness.
Hot, this station wagon closes off
around my feet, the lingering of lies,
the soda cans, the floor trash fleet.
And after time, our eyes will meet...
your eyes are brown, I know this.
Time comes creeping in like sun,
as things we speak; insanity, old
friends and memories so meek.
I fear our pending sadness.
And soon, the church, the school bells toll,
and so our rules collapse with shrugs;
we're proven simple-minded fools.
I leave, with thoughts of time we'll lose...
you'll still be here, I know this.
-Joy- |
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