Sap And Dirt

Who are you?
Will I awaken next to a pile of Autumn leaves come morning?
Where you ever in Phoenicia?
Did you come from the head of a God?
Opened with an axe to be sure
Were you poured from your mothers womb?
Like Irish coffee spilt across the kitchen floor
An oat, golden and bland?
Are you the figure staring out the window
Spying on the school boys
During parties of Rock And Roll delicates
Hold me closer
I want to see if I recognise your scent
To see if I can place it, does it hold a hint?
To who you are
Cigarette ash and pine tree sap
Church bells and tight cotton briefs
Can you smell the dust behind the walls
it must leak out into our lungs
I can smell it and in the sun I see it fall
I never feel it's soft and splendid kisses
Who are you?
Lying in my bed in darkness, brilliant and closed
Your eyes
I run my fingers into a concrete stem
Will I awaken next a pile of autumn leaves?
Do I go to sleep with a pile of summer oats?
I think of the summer hidden below pine trees
The dirt collected so easily on the sap
Its alright now, there is no strain
And surprises have never come easily- just curiosity