April 8th

Crawl across towards your window
I'm calling softly from the street
Always a lonely widow, half awake and sleeping on my feet
I'm of age but have no children 
No quarter phone booth calls to home 
Just late with television inside my bedroom all alone

There is no use in waiting 
Offer up your steps so I can climb
Show me all your figure paintings 
Etched in the middle of the night
Let me stretch upon your carpet 
Let me hear the rain tap on your street
Knowing I am safe on the inside
Blankets wrapped and drifting off to sleep

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