I’ve got a plan to sing you back home
To strike up the band and love you alone
Silver the stars
Golden the net
Your mind is a book
Your body a page
Your fingers are pools
Your beauty a cage
I carry you home
When after the rains
The hemlocks are wet
Heavy you weight on my mind
Like a prose that is frozen with rhyme
I’ve got a plan—whatever it takes
I’ll put on the moves—I’ll put on the brakes
The curtains are drawn
The table is set
Hold on
I’m not through with you yet