Saturday, September 5, 2015

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;

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