Thirtieth.

It's in the air
She felt it by the window
Stopped and held her breath
No, it's wrong

This autumn feels like spring

September 9th.

I spend my coldest nights

Alone, awake, and thinking

Of the weekend we were in love;

Sketchbook.

Leaden lines explain my deepest thoughts

There's something about the way he knew the words

And I can't quite get his eyes right

Everything about her is white

Snow, gleaming in the sun

So precious

And it waters the ground in spring

Gaze lifted to the second story

Where the best seat is saved for one

He sings as to his only audience 

Parking lot lights

In my mind, illuminating her heart

She holds the fading fingers

A smile in the headlights

And eyes that tear a heart 

We are driving away in the dark;

Headlights.

The ghost of you

Is close to me

And I'm waiting for Godot

At Calvary