and in the fog of sleep, trying to find you,
And in my dreams make love to the warmth of you
beneath too-thin covers.
When the morning sun throws our bedframe pattern on the
Slowly, slowly descending as your blond and peaceful
Dozes on my
I know this chill has passed.
Soon I will put on my boots.
We will walk the stony upward path
To the dead hermit's abandoned house, and
say a prayer to his
Then we'll visit Betty's sisters -- they
will bring us eggs and coffee.
It will be as good
As the morning sun that throws our bedframe pattern on the
El Paso, 2004.04.12