When we talk it's of you
I'll always listen
to the sound of your day.

 

I wonder if you think on mine?

 

You want a world wide open
where brambles don't scratch at your ankles
and there's nothing loud enough
to drown out birdsong

 

A crack is required
just wide enough to slide through,
where there's still a moon to sing for
even if it's fading against the gathering dawn

 

I want to gather up my skirts
ignore all those swirling patterns in the dust
feel free, if only for a little time