No covers tonight
The cold side of the pillow
Always keeps me cool

The last leaves succumb.
Floating like feathers of gold.
Inevitable.

Everything is grey.
Grey rain falls from a grey sky.
Colours washed away.

Her name it was Naomi
and she was my first love
I was in grade two
she was in the grade above

she wore ankle socks and a gingham dress
her eyes as big as the number eleven
Oh come on what was I supposed to say
you think I was a poet when I was seven?

She was taller than me by an inch or three
to kiss her I'd stand on a box
but alas we got posted before I got chance
whatever happened to Naomi ***?

Did you ever read a poem
that you thought was about you
But you couldn't be really certain
yet so much of it rang true

Was there a line that caught your eye
something others wouldn't see
did you ***** your nose up,
twist your lips and think "nah, couldn't be!"

Or maybe there was a moment
hidden there in that verse
that grabbed your attention right away
and made you let out a curse

Of course we could all be mistaken
though our subconscious it may persist
But wouldn't such poems be clearer
if they came with a casting list?

Riddles and rhymes
are all very fine
but sometimes they're a pain in the ***

They get in the way
of what you're trying to say
Like the fog inside of the glass

So if you've something to say just spill it
to my face don't sneak up from behind
Cos I'm not very smart in affairs of the heart
I'm not just short sighted I'm blind

I have rainbows at my feet
where my tears and sunshine meet
such a cruel trick of the light it is to play

surely colours out of place
in this sad and lonely space
everything not black or white should go away

If only someone knew
what it was that made me blue
then perhaps they'd find the words I cannot say

but for now it really seems
that I'm dancing in sunbeams
when in truth I'm really trying to run away.