Right, left, back – what?
Flames flicker to the rhythm of
Your feet
And waver
At the ripple of my laughter.

Your palm pressed to mine:
Fire soldered to water.
I twirl and
Your eyes
Extinguish mine.

-bes-

Everyday's the same, same old crap, same old wonder
New day is dawning, morning bright, a day to plunder
Welcome to the real world, one away from heady dreams
Yet still ripe with stargaze and colour and off-of-table schemes
You wake up in the moment, taking it as prescribed
Leaving buried things buried, you keep it all inside.

Visiting "Chez Louis", tossing back Main Street
Who's putting on who, who's missing the beat
Pair of size 10 sneakers, rubber soles, red and white
No sweater, no hat, the sun is raging bright
You take a trip to nowhere, not so very far
And marvel at the marvel, of feeling like a star.

They call you a lost wonder, you call 'em all first rate
Leave it all to karma and destiny and fickle, fickle fate
Don't start your **** again, just leave and keep on truckin'
You've other strands of life that you'll want to get to pluckin'
Living, it's called, a right serious sore temptation
To shed false airs and try for new sensation.

Oh, to die a death less valued
     Much that was once lost now lives
And yet, and yet...
     Here I find myself undone
By powers beyond my scope
     Such is my end.

Oh, such wonders wondered
     Living a life unloved
Waiting, waiting...
     A threat not voiced
Only spoken through silence
     A morning without sun.

Oh, what wroth hath writ
     Hope sharp as wit
Love a soft-spoke casualty
     Of a crushed and listing ship
Foundering on a shore
      This wielded weapon.

She's looked, you speak, finally, yes;
Dancing the talk of a child...
Hearts strong shall fight soft,
Falling, young, set, and sorry...
Held, they gave peace.

Soft music and falling leaves.

She's spoke, you look, finally, yes;
Knowing she heard sad in a bright laugh...
No reason, her mouth at peace,
Her eyes bring dear hell;
Lost, there is no longer a longer.

Snow brings the cold.

there is no cure quite like for the dour
than clean pyjamas post-long-hot-shower.
with a sigh and a hug and flannel kisses to yer ***
hot shower/clean pyjamas: for when a day is done.