A Watercolour Waiting

Exhaust moves and chokes the air.
Coffee helps to wake dispair.
Engineers make motion safety.
But in this room, there's a watercolour waiting.

It's a picture of two eyes I think they're yours.
A landscape, a vibrant Harris.
And it's melted all my black shadowlines.
But it hasn't scorched the dawn's new mist.

Chorus:
I'll see you again in the morning.
I'll see you again in the evening.
The distance we're apart has no meaning.
Our time is the red wine breathing.

I see the newsflash fanfare on most nights.
Chaos tied to the anchor's windsor knot.
The autumn's gone but there's still firelight.
And I'm content with this stark beauty I've got.

Repeat chorus twice.

(copyright 2003, Gord Easton)