Woke up to the dry summer rain,
Tapping his fingers impatiently
On my window, on my walls,
The storm which comes so quietly.
His hands push across the grey skies,
His arms the wreaths of dreary cloud,
They hold me in my dreams so close,
I can hear him howling winds out loud.
We dance across the floating ground,
The rainbow our path to the sun,
Glassy gifts under our feet,
Pull on my hand and we start to run.
Silver slope and silver rope,
Never could make a gold road,
Diamond salt and diamond soap,
Never clean but they corrode,
Tangle my hair in his hope,
Lost in what we owed.
Maybe then fists into the air,
I wake again and can't decide,
His knocking on the the surface,
His striking heartbeat of which
I was unaware,
Both sides interlaced,
But in or outside?
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