Switchboard

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Every morning she wakes with the sunrise 
The grace of an angel deep in her dark eyes 
Hours ago she taught him to smile today 
Now he’s unconscious hundreds of miles away 

Every shade of blood and inspiration 

I’m tired of the switchboard, imperfect connections
It’s all interference and mostly rejection 
The desperate phone calls without any warning 
From broken receivers at four in the morning 

Running on empty slowly the days die 
Singing the same sun under the same sky 
I’m looking westward to curse all the states between 
Damn the Dakotas, I envy the skies they’ve seen 

Every shade of blood and inspiration

I’m tired of the switchboard, imperfect connections
It’s all interference and mostly rejection 
The desperate phone calls without any warning 
From broken receivers at four in the morning

 - January 2005 -                                                               #043