There are periods when my mind goes flying
Like a butterfly in a field of flowers
It settles briefly on one sweet happy thought
Then flies away to the next inviting one
In one of these moments I think of you
Shouting and yelling at the kids
"Keep quiet or I'll kick you!"
"Sit down and eat your food!"
In your quiet, gentle disposition though
You wouldn't, as they say, hurt a fly
I imagine you in your little room at night
Laying on the bed in your t-shirt and boxers
Thinking about your life on its journey
As it drives on through junctions and red lights
You think about the time we spent walking
Aimlessly in the mall, sharing jokes
How funny and interesting I am
Meanwhile, I think about calling you
To share in the seesaw stories of your day
But most often I would like to be sitting
Beside you, listening to your jokes
Running my hands through your dark hair
Down to your slender neck and waist
Until I pull you close enough
And our lips meet
Jul 1, 2012
Jul 1, 2012 at 7:46 AM UTC
There are periods when my mind goes flying
Like a butterfly in a field of flowers
It settles briefly on one sweet happy thought
Then flies away to the next inviting one
In one of these moments I think of you
Shouting and yelling at the kids
"Keep quiet or I'll kick you!"
"Sit down and eat your food!"
In your quiet, gentle disposition though
You wouldn't, as they say, hurt a fly
I imagine you in your little room at night
Laying on the bed in your t-shirt and boxers
Thinking about your life on its journey
As it drives on through junctions and red lights
You think about the time we spent walking
Aimlessly in the mall, sharing jokes
How funny and interesting I am
Meanwhile, I think about calling you
To share in the seesaw stories of your day
But most often I would like to be sitting
Beside you, listening to your jokes
Running my hands through your dark hair
Down to your slender neck and waist
Until I pull you close enough
And our lips meet