morning drifts in the the window
and touches her dreams
stirring her to a whisper
she calls to me
and tho i am right next to her
my mind is lost in far away night
a fast fast train
thru the shadows of a distant land
and there is only silence
that holds me pen to paper
that holds me idea to the forge
when i was a younger man
it was a simple thing
knowing and seeing
knowing right and seeing the way to go
but this grey is more than in my beard
its in my mind
its in my soul
she reaches out to me
brushing my tangle from my brow
tells me to wake, wake lover
but i cling to this shore
i cling to this quiet place where none
can follow
where none can take me from this peace
i crave with a weary soul
just about gone
have little to dream on anymore
have nothing to build on
im ready to go home
im ready to go home
i am on the waves
i am on the fast ship thru a dark night
feel it thunder neath me
feel its power as it races the years
as it draws me away from this dawning day
into the mysterious night
(last of the steampunk glasses poems for a while at any rate...she took her spike and her spoon and made trails east...so i wont be boinking that bunny for a little while)