slow birds

no breeze

iron hearts

rust in streams



long march

small crimes

soft words

whisper

it's time to come home - your eyes



to bring back - your charms

to sit real still

in my arms



clocks tick

trees pound

lions roar

on empty streets



long lists

in black and white

(s h h) red words

that read like the fourth of July

you're home

uhuh, you're home, in my arms