Christmas Eve

A table in white cotton dressed
One empty glass, of dark wine dreaming
It is the story, old as the song
Tearful as the singer, the guitarra, the walls

I need no plates tonight, my hunger is for dreams
No candles and no shadows, my thirst is for a name
For eyes green and dark, for the last word said
For the promised dance which we will never dance

I bought a present, but will keep it unwrapped
I kept a past, but will blame it on love
Who left me so soon, while daylilies drank
The dew, as morning tears, near the oak tree, on a full moon

A table in white cotton dressed
One empty glass and another near full
I feel old tonight, as it is the story
Of a man, a girl and a cold slab of granite

In the open fields
Shaped as a tear
Drop
Upon
Drop

December 24, 2006