As the night closes, her day begins.
When you're simple, you're unburdened.
But when you feel everything the night is long.
Responsibility lurks in the shadows of the day,
and some things make you breathless,
like the scent of that old flower shop in Grand Central,
the one that makes the whole of Lexington smell like Spring.
A smile as the memory brushes against you.
Then a velvet cloak is pulled across the sky as eyes become windows to the past,
and you're back there again, soaking up the moment.
You wake to see the day, remembering that lace handkerchief you forgot on the train, it had absorbed so many of your tears, perhaps it was time to give it away.
As your pen scratches across this page,
and the final story of your book is done.
You look out your window towards the ocean,
and realise your next dream starts at one.
When you're simple, you're unburdened.
But when you feel everything the night is long.
Responsibility lurks in the shadows of the day,
and some things make you breathless,
like the scent of that old flower shop in Grand Central,
the one that makes the whole of Lexington smell like Spring.
A smile as the memory brushes against you.
Then a velvet cloak is pulled across the sky as eyes become windows to the past,
and you're back there again, soaking up the moment.
You wake to see the day, remembering that lace handkerchief you forgot on the train, it had absorbed so many of your tears, perhaps it was time to give it away.
As your pen scratches across this page,
and the final story of your book is done.
You look out your window towards the ocean,
and realise your next dream starts at one.
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