The Blessing

When my face turns to paper
You can write me down a sonnet
So my voice can whisper the words
Like an old tin can
Like a parchment stained with brandy
With kerosene spilled upon it
This rushing river quivers like a flicker o’er the land

‘Cause we are timeless in an ever wilting scene
And so it passes like a stone under the rapids’ fold
Let it rise and fall or let lovers lead or lie
And may our memories all come swift(ly) so this story’s told

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