on days like these when all the trees
swell up green I'm on my knees
and a disease like winter's freeze
flares up in me I cannot breathe
I'm still stuck on the last four words you said
I toss them all around my head
until they're nothing but an old book I've read
I sit helplessly, upright in my bed
I know you are
an open book if I just read between the lines
a smile could spark
the perfect word If I just opened up my eyes
I'm still staring out the new classroom window
consulting with the oldest souls I know
and they urge me to open and let go
of a field once green–muddied and enclosed
as I sink into your honest grey-blue eyes
I watch you wear them like a cheap disguise
but beneath a stained-glass shade there lies
a blue too true for seas or skies
I know you are
an open book if I just read between the lines
a smile could spark
the perfect word If I just opened up my eyes

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