Thursday, June 3

TRAINS.





TRAINS.
12/30/09


I’d always thought
He said
‘I’m in love.’
I suppose that’s what an accent will do
to a romantic.

It was the rhythm, the pass
Into depth,
Into passion…
Those chords wound around his fingers
And a cry for something higher
Brought me closer to you.

Now we live the quiet lives…
Months fade away into paper,
But a note is all we’ll ever need
To find each other again.

So it’s Luck, is it,
If it’s not love…
But what’s the difference to a romantic?








© BLAYKE MORROW, 2009




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