Three Lines

Three lines meet and a corner is formed,

a shadow catching spirit,

dancing in the blades of the twilight fan

with a golden scalp reflecting last nights tragedy.

I pull on the beaded strings

to shed some light in the dusty room,

but I leave the light off because I saw the vicious blue rainbow,

a halo formed reminding early risers there is still beauty here,

there is still a hope unsaid in "waiting phrases",

spoken in hidden agendas of "once"...

"once this is over"...

1942

We find ourselves lost.
Where did I go?
I've been conversing with ghosts,
Alone in the attic.
Their wood creaking voices
Leaving echoes around the room,
And their dust blown bodies
dance in the light from the moon.
I see your silhouette in shadows
your feet stepping to the tune
of a muffled song carried over
It sounds like 1942
And with fireside chats and whiskey bottle caps
I feel more at home
We find ourselves lost
Where did I go?
I've been conversing with ghosts.
Stomping alone in the attic
with some courage on my tongue
Whiskey bottle's empty
but my dancing's just begun
I take your ghostly hand
and twirl you just the same
as the light begins to twirl
this dust sure knows the game
Its 1942
And she knows me by my name
And with fireside chats and whiskey bottle caps
I feel more at home
We find ourselves lost
Where did I go?
Drinking and Dancing
back to 1942.
Whispering and laughing
I'm holding on to you.