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)