i look up to your bolted window
and assess lines of tears and fears;
gypsies down the street chant:
sing me songs of broken days,
sing me hearts stolen now, always
sing me beauty as Arabian vase..
i sit up to drawn drapes
and dream of broken bridges, hearts,
even love turned back at blade point:
sing me songs of shaken displays
sing me souls blown on stairways
sing me love radiant, inviting embrace..
your pigeon signals silence;
i request a ticket to dreams
where cats turn and close the sky:
sing me songs of breaking bays
sing me doves necking these ways
sing me lights enchanting like your face..
when this sleeping window is opened
admitting waiting calls of distant doves
and flowers from next window robin:
who will sing songs of broken days,
of hearts stolen now, always
and faces fading without trace..
i will approach the balloon cathedral
where after prayers i return doubly to myself,
i yet suppose dreams will wait:
as we sing songs of purple rays,
of hearts true now, always
of our love and its affirming grace..