On a Red Couch

Softly she strums, head bent
juggling the words
black scribbled on white
in the heat of the day
she wishes for night

Softly she hums, head bent
as twilight descends
and covers the bed
she chases the tunes
rolling inside her head

Softly she sings, head bent
the mists of her past
cloud the moon from it's light
and she sighs twice as deep
as the dark of her night

Softly she cries, head bent
the whistle of tea
in the kettle refrains
along with her muse
alone in her pain

But then softly she smiles, head bent
for the presence of he
in the heart of her she
trades her past with her present
instead

For Rachel, thank you for all you've shared with us this week in Kew.
xoxox
~Lace~