the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Settle, Settle...

We can make our home here
A dying brother on a frosted-over rocking chair
Who can barely feel the weight on his legs
He feels like he is flying
He feels like he is free
The colors black in and out
A thousand winks from a Christmas tree
There's a slippery descent into innocent snow
It'll be safer in the morning,
This is where we'll make our home.

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