And you’re gone again, you, the master of silent footsteps

I might as well tiptoe to the large embrace of a gentle sleep.

While we lay, fires will burn high and bright and

Stubborn beacons will steer ships off the dented coasts.

Let me dream the repetitive tale of Orfeus ;

Oh I know full well that the closest emergency exit may be behind us.

This frequent runaway has gone again as I blinked one bit ;

Dawn will spray dew on roses as we brush past,

And the sun will follow us all day until it finally gets

A kindred glance from the mirror we’ve hidden in our hearts.

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