morning after
counting what if's -
do you remember what I said
(you are every face I saw
every cloud
and every tree)
little escapes from reality
one walking away with someone else
another drifting away
in the memory of a fire
the smell of another's lips
somewhere in your dreams
vanishing into an echo of a kiss
and the sound of flames
dying
of voices in the rain
(to feel the drops on your forehead -
to feel
last night's echoes
the bygone art
of waking up)
