Come and find me, in the morning,
While the gentleness of an angry day,
Hides among the colder inner workings,
And steals the sunshine from the clouds
Up there, before the bird flies,
Before the worm sticks his head up,
And the grass is still wrapped in the night before.
Come and find me, please, oh please,
Lay your head down on my chest,
And play your silly game of tempted fire,
Let me hold you there in my arms,
Put your face so close to mine, each breath
Like the day; could-have-been an also-ran,
And keep your fingers soft, full, grace-like and your hair
Lying all crooked on your head, on your face, curling
Over and lying down against the skin, that touches
Me, and holds me closer still,
While you play your game, and talk your talk,
And the windows open up, and the grass finds its head,
Each posture, each movement, each time
You fill the grace, and feel the feeling straight from me
As you keep your heart, your dangling ready heart,
So closely held.