Notes

Your coal burning contrite in my lint pocket

There is something about a cloudy day

missing your sunny perfection

There's a state of assurance as the crowd closes in

The rickety trambone of the homeless man asks me for  change

I am reminded that you are their, waiting

I am here on this street freezing under this cover of winter

Waiting to be saved.

Clever magazine adds don't tell me a thing at midnight

as I change my jeans I am alone instead

 and the jazz music never changes

So I wait for the dawn, Ever coming

Ever promising.

But the message is blank and you left a scar on my leg.