The Movement of a Hand
Bright Eyes
Fevers and Mirrors
The Movement of a Hand
Bright Eyes
edit by A-guu
You follow the footsteps
echoes leading down a hall
to a room There is music playing
tiny bells with moving parts.
Here the shadows make things ugly
an effect quite undesirable.
The bold and yellow daylight
grows like ivy across the wall
and bounces off of the painted porcelain
tiny dancing doll.
Her body spins,
as she pirouettes again,
the world suddenly seems small.
On an off white, subtle morning
you stretch your legs in the front seat.
The road has made a vacuum
where our voices used to be.
And you lay your head onto my shoulder,
pour like water over me.
So if I just exist for the next
ten minutes of this drive
that would be fine.
And all the trees that linethis curb would be
rejoicing and alive.
Soon all the joy that pours from everything
makes fountains of your eyes
because you finally understand
the movement of a hand waving you good-bye
edit by A-guu