On the left, I see the bent frame
Around your face, crooked on the wall.
Turned back right,
A lonely flower
Swayed in a vase, on the cracked windowsill.
We both, seem to see.
The same thing
Each way we look.
So far, I can tell
Being still, is still the wrong direction.
Walk along, walk with me.
We will go until we see a fork again.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 12:30 AM UTC
On the left, I see the bent frame
Around your face, crooked on the wall.
Turned back right,
A lonely flower
Swayed in a vase, on the cracked windowsill.
We both, seem to see.
The same thing
Each way we look.
So far, I can tell
Being still, is still the wrong direction.
Walk along, walk with me.
We will go until we see a fork again.
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