the days of longing ...
the days of longing are over
i've put all your postcards away
and let your scented letters
slip and slide
behind the vestibule
and if i still have your photograph
somewhere in my hidden life
i promise you
i never go there anymore
the nights of longing are over
and the twisted sheets of hotel rooms
have been stripped from their beds
and left like fallen flags
on the killing grounds
and even as i remember
how the battle was so easily won
i also remember just as clearly
how the war was so quickly lost
the weeks, the months, the years
of my deepest longing explode
like confetti booming from a circus cannon
over the heads of unsuspecting faces
waiting for the uncertainty
that finalizes every certain surprise
a fog of harmless golden glitter
over upraised joyful hands
and i alone miss the ambush of delight
for still i remain imprisoned in
the beauty of your eyes
i've put all your postcards away
and let your scented letters
slip and slide
behind the vestibule
and if i still have your photograph
somewhere in my hidden life
i promise you
i never go there anymore
the nights of longing are over
and the twisted sheets of hotel rooms
have been stripped from their beds
and left like fallen flags
on the killing grounds
and even as i remember
how the battle was so easily won
i also remember just as clearly
how the war was so quickly lost
the weeks, the months, the years
of my deepest longing explode
like confetti booming from a circus cannon
over the heads of unsuspecting faces
waiting for the uncertainty
that finalizes every certain surprise
a fog of harmless golden glitter
over upraised joyful hands
and i alone miss the ambush of delight
for still i remain imprisoned in
the beauty of your eyes
