I play my part as she sings me to sleep

Taylor calls for me from those stairs in Italy

I’m walking by a pay phone on the beach

Reminders from the East and a girl named Cicily

Talk me into circles out of reach

Send letters won’t you son to remind us what you’ve done

Don’t be a stranger call us once a week?

I buried what was left of my heartache in a trench

On that lonesome stretch of sand I was released

Now Bret he reads the lines in the background of my mind

There’s no one in this room to hear me sing

When journaling in thought feels like a raven’s claw

It’s Taylor who sits calmly next to me

The grass rests underneath her cheekbone by the sea

While chemicals channel flowing dreams

It’s 8am in August while I pour the gin and tonic

Listening to the ocean’s cresting wave

The cobblestone in Rome for which once walked me home

Now Cicily I hear her gently speak

There’s no such thing as time, if you believe that then that’s fine

But darling I’ve got no tears left to weep

I did my best to please the priest listening to me

Still Lucas rest assured me of my grief

I didn’t have to sail to France to find a girl to dance

I just went out every night for one last drink

So now as Taylor calls to me from those stairs in Italy

I pick her up once more from memory

I play my part as she sings me to sleep

I pick her up once more from memory

I play my part as she sings me to sleep

In the early evening calm

She breathes in deep

and exhales his dreams.

In the early evening calm

he falls back asleep.

And just as she wakes

in the mid-morning sun,

he brings to her coffee

just after his run.

Sedona sun

It’s a warm sensation

like the Sedona sun

pours light unto my eyes,

how I’ve had everything

I have always needed

right here inside of me.

I just needed to let it out.

In the house I keep

In the house I keep each wall shall be

A coloring book for poetry

Where colors burst in harmony

Where war and peace succumb to paint.

In the house I keep each window sill

Shall only bear the daylight spill

Where succulents hang with free will

Where laughter’s never faint.

In the house I keep each lock will turn

With open ended thoughts to churn

Where no one line deserves to burn

Where honesty is quaint.

But when fear knocks in the house I keep

There will be no reason for which to weep

My hands dipped well within relief

Each wall we’ll finger paint.

In the house I keep my only wish

To deserve and serve this simple dish

Where forks and knives grow strong and rich

Where no wall goes untouched.

from the grassy knoll

A wave of relief rushes over me

and I haven’t smiled so hard,

as when a flock of morning dove

flutter from the grassy knoll

and fly overhead.