Right is the crying candle
Floating on the rippling surface of her own light
Hanging in the center of my mind's library
Left has my agitation
On a skiff o'er silver puddles drenched in twilight
Somewhere in the middle with every malady
I had a mind to watch it burn
Maybe I did, maybe I hid
It takes a running aim to catch a parade
Under February rain, no heart in my brain
No cracking the case but the lack of a word
Up and I beckon fable
Come collect an errant pigeon
Give him new eyes
Throw him off the terrace and watch him wrest the wind
Down is a damned direction
Cut the loss and cede the poet to some new world
That works without you in it
Leave the one you made and let it die
I had a mind to watch you turn
Maybe I did, but thank You I lived
It takes a running aim to catch a parade
That December I caved
I met my own grave
I sat there for days with near nothing to say
I smoked two packs a day
All my blues turned to gray
Then my poor self was saved by the lack of a word
Now that's all over
The candle burns bolder
It grew to a glowing arch holding the ceiling
Never a day goes by I don't love you again
All over again
I will never forget, though I always forget
The moon without gold is a life without you
I will never believe you didn't come from the moon on the crest of a tune
Let me just love you again