Past the coming storm in another home
A feverish discomfort rests in you
Your body is weakened, your mind alone
I curse my hands for what I can't give you
An ice cold cloth upon your sweating brow
A massage upon your aching shoulders
A song to send you into evening clouds
Where dreams guard your sleep like watchful soldiers
Complain and whine into my patient ear
When you are restless, ill, I love you more
I try to transcend this life over here
To stay at the foot of your bed before
You lay your head down to shut out the pain
I'm here with you listening to the rain.
No comments:
Post a Comment