Covers

Covers Seems sometimes even the closest of lovers Lose steam like kettles with bent up covers Things boil over and make a mess of your day Stains add character, they’re only stains anyway Cements got a crack with weeds right where it’s begun to heave Like bare trees in the winter, problems gain appeal when they leave Breathe in a promise if you still dare, map a route to your desires Break up excuses and the grizzled retorts, use them to start fires Burn the gap between the dawn of your next wishful opening eye To where resolves the quandary between the devil and the deep blue sky Speak loud and clear into the megaphone, let the mob be sure to hear you clear You’re not looking to pave any highways to heaven or hell with any of your intentions Just embarking on the last leg of your journey and you plan to expand my dimensions Eager anticipation creeps across my chest looking for purposeful loving consummation These thing cause long dormant ripples of hope to quickly follow behind in permutation Sweat begins to build all across my brow, my fingers begin to tap a rhythm or a part The rest of it can only be played with her fingers dancing across my chest into my heart And the steam builds and builds and billows like fog across a lake on an early autumn morn A bed covered with roses, two bare lovers rolling in the flowers, none of the roses has a thorn A perfect start to a perfect beginning, tell me when the last leg gets underway, when does it start When will you be tapping your fingers across my chest in a perfect rhythm right into my heart Seems sometimes even the closest of lovers Lose steam like kettles with bent up covers Tim Windisch 07 25 2024