Pens

From across the hall, your skinny arms are waving

And when I fall, I go down hard but struggling

Still, the muted sound of trumpet finds me in the dark

When the wind blows round as it comes off the ocean

Or the Sun beats down on shoulders of the broken

Will we realize the wonder of staring into space?

Hollowly we drown in cracking leaves of brown

Till shaking free again, we sit down with our pens

And bleed ink

Bleed ink

I picked a petal out my sleeve this morning

In my hand it fell to pieces without warning

If the spring has come then why do the flowers wither still?

Tomorrow we'll be found in cracking leaves of brown

Till breaking free from pens we find ourselves again

And bleed ink

Bleed ink