another day
another morning, another night
one heart trying to open up
another heart knocking at the door
a thousand lighted candles stand in the hall
a window opens through to yet another time
*
The moon is watching everything we do
these days I feel ashamed
I cannot lose the feeling
that we might have seen
the last innocent spring
*
When she was a kid there was something in her bedroom closet
it was something that shouldn't be there
it was something scary.
Lying in her bed, as night came closer
she'd watch the colors drain
from all the things in her room
everything now
dusky gray and black.
If she turned to her left side
she could see her closet door, slightly ajar
she'd stare at it until it slowly began to open –
open a few inches and then close back
she was too scared to call out
and maybe worst of all
the closet door was between her bed
and her escape through the bedroom door to the hallway
She felt a little safer in her bed
but not much.
*
I was born on the verge of tears
an Irish heart that's been weeping
for a thousand years
the sorrow of a child
the sorrow of the world, wrapped around a shoulder
a war weary soldier who can't go home
*
next time around I want to spend
a couple centuries enjoying the universe
cruising the stars
before I head back down here
with my instruction manual
in my new jeans

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