Eyes closed and tight lipped
I picture you
Way back when there was a magic fog
(Later to settle as dust
Over the finer things in this room
And this life)
Your eyes stare at my fumbling fingers
As mine are cast to the spider web
In the upper corner
No denying that we don't
See eye to eye
But you'll stroke my knee
And I'll rub your back
And we'll look at each other
By the time I lay down at night
With your arms around me
Your warm breath on my neck
I'll see that fog
Yet again
Promising that tomorrow
I'll dust the room
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