April 8th

Crawl across toward your window I'm calling softly from the street Always a lonely widow Half-awake and sleeping on my feet I'm of age but have no children No quarter phone booth calls to home Just late night television Inside my bedroom all alone There is no use in waiting Offer up your steps so I can climb Show me all your figure paintings Etched in the middle of the night Let me stretch upon your carpet Let me hear the rain tap on your street Knowing I am safe on the inside Blankets wrapped and drifting off to sleep