Jun 2014
How do you do it?
Tell someone that even during waking day
She's all you ever think about
That when she's right there with you it doesn't even feel like you're dreaming
And no, it's not like that
I have dreams of moonlit beaches where we make small talk until you just laugh and say
"Wake up, the moon has to go away. It's morning time my sweet."
You say "I'll see you tonight, tommorow or whenever next we meet."
I dream of streetlamps lighting up park benches where we've met for the first time about 17 seperate winter nights just in this past july
Last night we had dinner, the conversation was lovely
It started with some awkward smiles deeply laden with sincerity,
It moved on to telling each other about the other, and we left with a brief squeeze of the hand.
That's all I've ever gotten, and I'm quite content with that
So the stage is set, not sure what the play is we're set to see
But she picked it, I'm sure it'll be wonderful
You have a different name tonight, just like you always do
The ballerina's where intoxicating
their grace was Endless
as they swam through the air
I felt like a trespasser, struggling to breath
When we left that night however, our goodbyes were more distant
It's been getting more and more like that recently,
I recall a night some ten years ago
I could have sworn I remembered your face
for almost 3 hours after I begrudgingly woke
But no
Your shifting smile, and timeless eyes
I like to think that's because you're getting closer
And not because I'm a tad too late
Were you here already? And I just couldn't pick you out of the crowd?
You know trains in the city, awfully hard to focus
Or perhaps you know of horses and mountains
I'm not one to judge
I hope I see you tomorrow, I look forward to our night
To our day,
To our mornings and to what we'll say
But if you have to leave for good my dear, please just find a way
I have a P.O box you know
It's rather simple really
I just would love a photo of you,
to remember our night in Sicily
Or pick one of your favorites, they were all suitible
I'll check my mail every day
Waiting, hoping
That I can see your face.
Tell someone that even during waking day
She's all you ever think about
That when she's right there with you it doesn't even feel like you're dreaming
And no, it's not like that
I have dreams of moonlit beaches where we make small talk until you just laugh and say
"Wake up, the moon has to go away. It's morning time my sweet."
You say "I'll see you tonight, tommorow or whenever next we meet."
I dream of streetlamps lighting up park benches where we've met for the first time about 17 seperate winter nights just in this past july
Last night we had dinner, the conversation was lovely
It started with some awkward smiles deeply laden with sincerity,
It moved on to telling each other about the other, and we left with a brief squeeze of the hand.
That's all I've ever gotten, and I'm quite content with that
So the stage is set, not sure what the play is we're set to see
But she picked it, I'm sure it'll be wonderful
You have a different name tonight, just like you always do
The ballerina's where intoxicating
their grace was Endless
as they swam through the air
I felt like a trespasser, struggling to breath
When we left that night however, our goodbyes were more distant
It's been getting more and more like that recently,
I recall a night some ten years ago
I could have sworn I remembered your face
for almost 3 hours after I begrudgingly woke
But no
Your shifting smile, and timeless eyes
I like to think that's because you're getting closer
And not because I'm a tad too late
Were you here already? And I just couldn't pick you out of the crowd?
You know trains in the city, awfully hard to focus
Or perhaps you know of horses and mountains
I'm not one to judge
I hope I see you tomorrow, I look forward to our night
To our day,
To our mornings and to what we'll say
But if you have to leave for good my dear, please just find a way
I have a P.O box you know
It's rather simple really
I just would love a photo of you,
to remember our night in Sicily
Or pick one of your favorites, they were all suitible
I'll check my mail every day
Waiting, hoping
That I can see your face.
A consistant theme in my dreams is a faceless woman. Most nights we're on a date but it's always in a different part of the world. Other nights she's comforting me through a hard time, or me her. But every morning I can never remember any details about her. So here's a poem dedicated to that person.
