blue
Life is the thing that creeps in at the edges
The light that tugs at the horizon
The bird who sings at night,
awake in the beam of a spotlight
Your soft, slow breathing
when you fall asleep before me
The hour of blue in a week of grey
Life is the thing that creeps in at the edges
The light that tugs at the horizon
The bird who sings at night,
awake in the beam of a spotlight
Your soft, slow breathing
when you fall asleep before me
The hour of blue in a week of grey
