Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Stranger At the Door

I was up in a tree not long ago, from here it was almost cloudy
Perfectly, perfectly, whispering against the windows
But nothing's ever as important as a phone call,
A voice along the gutter lines, pressing too hard leaves marks
This ink might fall away without the words inside
Just like your older mailbox, it never held the truth
Until autumn, sprung its golden threads on our knobs
To trick and turn in the mornings
A Tuesday left me in almost-tears, I couldn't wash
Not enough coins to shatter this windshield
From somewhere beneath a struggling
Came, and that's when
The sidewalk broke apart and gave me
My first real cry in years
She's really letting it go now, as the turn signal repeats
On, off, inhale, exhale
Crossing the paths we never thought we would
In the 5am woods, closer than ever
To the sea, will it ever weep for me?

For Daddy, Happy Birthday
You've always supported me in my writing....this one's for you

1 comment:

Ging said...

WOW- I was reading this and thinking- I can't wait to finish so I can find out who the author, songwriter or philosopher was... Turns out it was just who I suspected and she is all three.
Love you