Relinquished like the evaporated ground
of where a lake was once found.
All my misfortunes cease eruption;
The volcano: a piano you play
You lullaby me by day
You likely ask Father Time,
Your old friend,
Where I’ve been.
I’m sorry I’m late
Forces forcing my hands in dances
I never asked for,
You dissipate the scary faces
And the monsters under beds.
Yet I know,
Awaiting as patient as a broken loom
You perch with the birds,
But I’ll be there soon,
I’ll be there soon