It is yet to be determined,
but the air is thick,
& my hope is feeling worn.
I’m missing home,
& I’m glad you’re not a part of this,
there are parts of me that will be missed.
And the phone is always dead to me,
so I can’t tell you the temperature is dropping
& it feels like
it is colder than it ought to be in March
& I still have a day or two ahead of me till I’ll be heading home,
into your arms again.
And the people here are asking after you.
It doesn’t make it easier.
It doeasn’t make it easier to be away.
I’d like to hire a plane.
I’d see you in the morning,
when the day is fresh.
I’m coming home again.
It’s warmer where you’re waiting.
It feels more like July.
Ther’s pillows in their cases
& one of those is mine.
And you wrote the words I love you,
& sprayed it with perfume.
It is better than the fire is to heat this lonely room.
It is warmer where you’re waiting
It feels more like July.