When morning light will fuel a thought
Those dwellings
They’re so real
When sleep is near and dreams are rare
You are what I feel.
And rain
It spills from such great height
It paints the pavement pure
Search the world a little, now
There’s good out there,
I’m sure.
The rain has washed the world again
The streets and walls are dusted
Monday’s sky has turned to sea
...my minds a little rusted.
Absence
It can be a gem
Things can grow or go
But when sleep is near and dreams are rare
I’ll miss you
That, I know
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