Friday

The Morning Train

I should not think of you again
unless I can dream
free and clear of heartache
and the next big earthquake

Seems there’s less to gain
unless tomorrow comes
without memory and desire
and yesterday’s fire

I could put you on the morning train
unless you’d stay
you could tell the birds
so there’d be no words
for me to hang on
no hopes but those
I live on

But I will sleep now
unless the phone rings
free and clear is the line
but the light doesn’t shine

and still I dream
and always will
unless I wake in Ireland
and hear the choir and
the birds
without words

I shouldn’t wake but I do
and I think of you
ever, still, and will
free and clear like the morning train
and I sure would love to see you again
~bsower~



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