In times of deep sadness
We write songs that sound like birds scattering
Or card-castles falling;
Songs that yearn for poetry
But stop short to the scream of brakes
On rusted rails.
We yearn for rose gardens
That peel lemon sunlight from our words;
We yearn for voices like mother’s hands
That trace gentle lines of sorrow in a face,
That lift tears like a desert sun
And park trains like sand in an oasis.