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Rooms
Smith, Linda
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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I remember roots that had their parts
And the steady slowing down of the heart
The room in Paris, the room at Geneva
The room tethered with the seething sound
And that speechless, maddening sound of the tide
Rooms were for good or for ill, things died
But there is one thing where we tonight dared
Though in the morning we seemed to wake
And adjust as well, seem to sleep again
As we shall, somewhere in the other quieter, dustier lift
Out there in the sun, in the rain
Out there in the sun, in the rain
Out there in the sun, out there in the sun
Out there in the sun, in the rain
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