PureVolume

Transcendental.

The sun came up this morning,
right on schedule.
But this afternoon it changed its mind,
and let the clouds take over.
Now its crisp when I open my front door,
and the mountains are wearing white caps.

I didn't know there was a warmer place than here,
but the birds must have flown there.
There are no leaves to fall from the trees,
so they all look the same.
But I know they're changed.

They're calling for a white christmas back home.
700 miles away, and I'll be there.
Wrapped in warmth and kisses.
Perfect.

Sometimes I let my soul slip out of my fingertips,
and it likes to lightly lick the pages
where all my words spill.
The same soft way you kiss my cheeks
after I fall asleep.
I can hear the words you aren't saying.
And they're oh-so sweet.

I'm never letting you go.

Leave a Comment