this is for bon jour joelle,
my truest foul weather friend:
may our drunken adventures always last
until we're born again.
tell the bells to please stop ringing;
halt the horns so cease they cry;
forbade the watchmen to go on singing,
'from the lake, from the hills, from the sky,
they the people, united by flashing lights
huddeled alone with sharp words taken flight
they the people, who love things that do not move
is it day or night my love she asked
the light is dim and for not i know
no said he it is that time at last
when the world like us is all a'glow
we once dreamt together... (didn't we?)
literally our imaginations were in tune;
when the roll of the years ahead of us be,
and the tolling of the bells in june.
there are many blessings to be counted,
when first our eyes are opened wide.
love me this morning, my darling -
from each other let us not hide.
nobody knows when that day will come,
but he arrives all the same and cares not when
the clocks will all stop and dancing be done.
as i lay awake and aching
sing a song for my melancholy loves
for honest, open, agonies and breaking
held softly on your cradling hands