Speed the Morning Light

Speed the Morning Light

I lay awake in one-oh-two
and tossed and turned and thought of you,
Just feet away in one-oh-three,
you lay and thought, you say, of me.

Tangled up in tortured sheets,
two lovers destined not to meet,
Sweat unmingling because
it never will, it never was.

But all the longing in the World
won’t help the lonely to be heard.
And all the yearning in the night
won’t change the way things were before
or bring the knock upon your door
or speed the morning light.
Or speed the morning light.

Quite possibly our fevered heads
lay end to end in separate beds:
an inch or two of masonry
divides and conquers you and me.

But all the longing in the World…

Back again in one-oh-two,
I toss and turn and think of you,
tangled, tortured once again,
listening for your tap in vain.

But all the longing in the World
won’t help the lonely to be heard.
And all the yearning in the night
won’t change the way things were before
or bring the knock upon  your door
or speed the morning light,
won’t change the way things were before,
won’t bring the knock upon my door,
or speed the morning light.
Or speed the morning light.

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