These Hours

In these hours I see so clearly,

I see all the finer movements

of a rain dance and war machine

in the face of a clock pushing on

unaware that she is the anchor.

I can float so high

I escape the supervision of stars

and the constellations lose track of me

But I have crawled and will not be denied

my thirst for what other’s have been lacking.

A good friend of mine always says

“It’s going to be okay, love.”

And mostly I believe

in her modest hopes be delivered

But some nights we howl off the Severn bridge

believing in nothing but the rushing of the river.

In these hours I breathe so freely

and save my blues for another day

because I can I be sad 

with soft eyes seeing through me

but it’s for another time and place

so just for awhile,

let me stay.