White Room

Cream


In a white room with black curtains near the station.
Black roof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings.
Silver horses ran down moon-beams in your dark eyes.
Dawn light smiles on your leaving, my contentment.

I'll wait in this place where the sun never shines;
Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves.

You said no strings could secure you at the station.
Platform ticket, restless diesels, goodbye windows.
I walked into such a sad time at the station.
As I walked out, felt my own need just beginning.

I'll wait in the que when the trains come back;
Lie with you where the shadows run from themselves.