Than the dust that came from running
the dark of daylight lurking
the sail the ocean promised
It’s deeper than the blur of fog in mist.
And the marrows, in bones they settle
Limbs in evangelical noise
The dust is hidden by the sneeze from the kettle
This place displaces and pain it destroys.
Yes it’s a choice to find solace in a river
Often I am healed by petrichor
The cold is gone along with its shivers
When we know nothing but less rigor.
We finally find our kind of romance
Of flannel suit skeletons pairing
Something we missed when we had the chance
No need for tempers or tantrums flaring.
There’s a place to still be in love
Where dust is dust for you and me
There’s a place to be still and in love
A place of skulls of you and me.