I can't hear her when she falls asleep
I'm always sad when the sun goes down
Where does she go in her dreams
I can't see her through these headphones she lives in
Distance making a cold space between us
Your side of the bed a state so far from mine
I can't hear her shallow breathing
I can't see her eyes shut softly
Racing beneath her eye lids
I hope she dreams of somewhere beautiful
I wonder if there's flowers there
I can't hear her when the sun goes down
I plead every night with the silence
Baby
Wake up
My ears miss the way your lips move
But her eyelids followed the sun
I asked the moon to concider wearing yellow tonight
shades of red or orange
She said it wasn't her color
I get my warmth from knowing when the sun is up
You will be too
Although I'm not sure which brings more light into my life each morning
YOU ARE READING
Whims of a weary traveler
PoetryDo you want to know my life? Do you want to read the whims of a weary traveler? Are you too a lost boy holding the pieces of his life in his hands? Read if you dare know the soul of a wanderer looking for home.
