Leathered terrace that I cling to
enlists the true, eclectic me
sometimes shavin'
always cravin'
to see the forest through the tree;

I've seen rainbows and spied sunsets
that would make an angel cry
and I notice in the distance
I'll see that same light when I die;

for instance my own Mother
knows how short that I had fell,
sometimes we may see a heaven
from a view that includes hell;

tattered terrace that I long for
with a time that includes you,
so soft your touch
I miss so much
you are my favorite color, blue.