Thursday, November 30, 2006

Your eyes are soft, earthy. You smell like a child.
You kiss like a woman. You call like the wild.
You're subtlety personified. You bring me brand new days.
You're the song of the road that the gramaphone plays.
You're the magic of the moonlight, you're the navy blue tide.
You're a mystic river, flowing by my side.
You're a dusky Joan baez criticizing the pope
with a worn out guitar and Zimmerman’s hope
You're the legend of my fantasies, sarcasms and sins
It's to you I confess my blacks, my blues and greens
You're the woman I dreamt, she was wounded in love
With a drunken angel, crucified above
You asked me ‘if I was lonely’, you took me by my hand
All I had was Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club band
You looked into my eyes; I tried to see your soul
We swapped bitter espressos and discussed black holes
As the storm trespassed silently upon my windowpane
I played my guitar and it started to rain
You slithered next to me when Chaplin smiled
Your eyes were soft and earthy. You smelt like a child.

4 comments:

Ashi said...

ahem
that is because i liked it, and couldnt think of anything better to write

little boxes said...

i have said it before,but just couldnt resist saying it again...its beautiful

inihos said...

Its beautiful

WiseOwl said...

this is lovely.
Chanced upon your blog, and was taken in by the fragility, and depth of this post. Well, that might me an oxymoronish statement, but i hope you get what i mean.