Making It to the Sun

Gently wash your hands, my dear
Your cut has opened up some more
Too much deciding on your mind
Red, cold water down the drain
Don’t say you’re sorry anymore
I love even when I don’t understand

When the snow melts, the grass is green
We’ll give it a cut when we see it’s green
We’ll see it’s too much, we’ll cut it back
Tomorrow after it rains the day away

Rain and snow outside the mudroom door
See the ice and mud w/ yellow daffodils
Confessions behind the screen - no more
We’re made to change like the golden age
Where poets sung w/ angels of death’s will
I don’t care if you’re sane anymore than you
I actually think you’re sometimes prettier in
Home - finished with your dirty day – Sun,
In your eyes, walking through the garden door

John Alan Conte` JR
February 24, 2003