A smear of finger paint
Just a smear of finger paint
As I long for my muse
Who’s borrowed my yellows
And left me her blues
And a dry tired eye
And a patience resigned
To a stillness of laughter
And a late lullabye
But a cup of my heart
Is still wet with the taste
Of the bitter root left me
To want – just in case
I will find you again
In between every breath
With a smile quite peculiar
And a word in my mouth
Like the scent from a garden
On a tide of warm air
I will love you in moments
While I play in your hair
God be with me and link us
Like a truth we both share
Of a day and a night we live in
Each somewhere
I will rest in the memory
That at times blossoms hope
And love you on a cold day
The way I love a warm coat
