I want to be held,
So beautiful under Israeli Sun,
Watch gentle light filter across your shoes,
Not wonder how it feels now to be in love,
Your hand, so thick and golden at my back,
Always at my back,
Would like to be touched as if there is no going back,
How many times have I told you about the house in Provence,
And it's windows,
And the majestic way about it,
And my dreams crying softly for a lover,
Across the monastery,
Past the gardenias,
In the roof of my mouth,
I would like to be held so gently,
Water spilling strongly against my chest,
"In the light of all the earth's languages",
Against the roar, no cabaret, against all of which I am too frightened to admit haunts me,
Inspite, not despite,
Quickly but not irreverently,
As a rich man, and not poor,
With no harm, and little expectation,
The sound of Chopin in the air,
Your hand thick and not sadly golden,
Not lost star, not dying ghost.
I am alive tonight in your eyes - your eyes the window to my soul.
I am alive tonight in your breath, softly against my neck like clockwork, needing you tonight.
Your hips against mine, but no vice, only the words of my mother,
Your lips to my ear, tickling hair, and chickenpox mark from when I was 4.
I am in love, says the singer.
I am in love, whispers my toes stepping poorly on yours.
I would like,
To be held,
So gently.
