Waiting for the sound
of the Key
In the lock
of the front door
You said you'd be
Home late
So I start dreamin'
of Armageddon again
I wish I could
Just take off
& Leave
A note
But this isn't easy
Native American Lovin'
It's love with
Possessions scattered
All
Around
This old
Dusty place
Which we bought for
One another
& Right now
I feel like
I have nothing
Left to give
But I can't just
Gather my
Things
& Leave this
Old
Place
I'll just have to
Stare at an old picture
of us smiling until
You make a sound
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem