I humbly believe
That it often seems
Like the sweetest dreams
Could last forever.
A perfect picture of curious and happy,
A pair of hands with ten fingers cupped,
A pair of cheeks wet from tears of laughter,
A perfect afternoon,
And I hope I’ll be seeing you again soon.

Saint Benjamin, I know of a woman
Who talks to the morning clouds-
Or, rather, to the space between,
Right where your face should be.
“Can you hear me?”
The leaves shake upon a tree.
“How humid is the Heavenly air?
Tell me, I know you must be there…”
She waits, her frozen heart beings to thaw,
But the clouds shift,
And move back together,
And the line is broken again,
Broken forever.
Saint Benjamin, she’s reaching a hand to you.
A stretching, never-ending, one last wave goodbye.
“I’ll never meet any one quite like you,”
She’ll say,
But you’ll just smile and turn away.
Smile, that’s all you’re allowed to say.

Every spring time,
Every first sunny day of the year,
A pair of bright eyes closes,
And a pair of dark eyes opens.

It’s like a foreign film set on repeat,
Over and over again, like a machine.
We live it again, and again, and again:
Can you feel the thick, hot prairie wind
Blow away your every sin,
Every time I do?
You don’t; For you never sinned
The way I do.
I still feel that perfect afternoon,
And do believe that you left too soon
With a soft praise,
Two hands upon the wheel.
If you could just return, one more time,
If only just to properly say goodbye-
But you can’t,
And that much won’t ever change.
You know, finally, after all these years,
I can see it’s meant to be that way.

Saint Benjamin, can I just say something?
I’d like you to know that I hold her,
Every minute,
Spring day or not,
Sunny day or not,
On perfect and imperfect afternoons,
And, you best believe,
I do my best to get her through.
Between the clouds, or maybe not,
You can smile,
You can turn away,
But Saint Benjamin,
I would like to say
That everything for her will be okay-
She’ll be seeing you again someday.

And I know you wouldn’t have it any other way.