In the beginning it was simple:
There was for granted
Having and hold,
Giving and joy;
Being there was everything.
Now I am taller it is less so:
Sun and the rain fall
On me before they
Cover you within the shadow of my face.
Here in the outward ocean, today,
Where the big water
Mocks the ice burg,
It’s quite disturbed;
Lifting rafts a little higher.
Where does this truce thing get us, baby?
This world is not wide
Enough to accept a word
As small and insecure as this peace.
No chance of being out of time tonight,
With you and Toby and wind breaker too,
For now is seamlessly
Only another day
Weeping ourselves sick,
And watching the water trickling down
The window screened world.
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