Sleep will not come because sleep will not will it.
The veins of this city stretch away, distill the morning.
As I sit to capture and fix in words. Us. Together.
Arrange to decorate a blank facade.
Wind and rain won't penetrate our embrace,
But I peel at the rust of time and space.
That little sound, of which we must listen.
Threaten the morning not to come.
A comfort, a thread to hold and not wind in.
That you might take this to your resting place.
So I sit and think and fix this in words.
I realise, I’d swap each one, bit by bit, for your smile.
Clouds across skies, music through air.
Words can’t make what we have made.
What we make. Us. Together.