Longing - Twain

On Tuesday the doorway is opening and closing

Her body lives wild as my body’s dozing

Alone in a tent on a cheap plastic chair

Dream of angels, of angles of hair

On Wednesday the doorway on distant horizon

I wake in the motel room as the sun’s rising

Her eyes are retreating, her hands are retreating

If I were a thinker as well as a singer

I’d sing you to laugher and laugh you a thought

To think me a lover I ought to be bolder

I ought to be brighter I ought to be braver

I ought to take care of my heart for it can’t help it self

The doorman looks at me like I don’t belong here

He’s figured out quickly what took me so long

Took so many long years to become and accept:

I’m not but a shadow of a dream I once had

I once fell in love with the beauty of living

Which that night had taken the form of a woman

She transformed my being by simply existing

And artfully taught me a love for the meaning

Of living and loving and loving the living

And left me a loner to lonely search

For my own way of giving that gift to the world

All in a quick glance from a strange hearted girl

Of the north beach

A decade goes by without any changing

I enter her living room and fail to notice

The paintings on the wall

The wall of the hallway

There’s not to notice but the one who is sitting

Inside army coat worn over rainbow sweater

Whose jeans are cut shear as to fray around the ankle

Whose ankles are perfect who’s fingers are perfect

Whose eyes are delightful as to chortle the angels

Some like the gambling and some like the scheming

Some like to spend their days dreaming up ways

To kill off the dreams of the dreaming young men

Who’s city apartments so threaten the dreams

Of the ones who like gambling and the ones who

Like scheming

I love her endlessly, gambling and scheming

I’ll dream up a key

To open all doors

And once more transported, finish my days on the bay