Night comes down in red,
Like a memory that swallows hard;
There's something they are trying to tell you
As they lean upon your heart and ear,
Something that you haven't learned for yourself
Although you sympathize from memories only.
The night is filled with lights,
Though every one of them feels so lonely,
There is something that is waiting
For what won't return, or that never came--
It's impossible to know, just that something's missing
That you need to find. The particular toy
Has passed with age, but not the longing
For things revealed on unencumbered mornings
As real and as lost as any dream,
Like a ghost in the machine of daily living
Swinging open the claws of its doors
Like an empty, well-lit bus.
I've had so many friends
Who've listened and have shared--
The details we've exchanged have changed me,
Yet I can't recall a voice or face
As much as a feeling, the same one
That looks out at this darkness,
Tries to see itself at last.
