Second Pass

Midnight kitchen, radio low Leftover plate of chilled grease though I sink into the plaster man We sketched the night this all began Your note was short, the ink still wet A lack of pies is what I get I try to shake a tower clean And wash away the in-between Words keep slipping off my tongue Like they were never really sung On the second pass I hear it clear The things I meant but couldn't steer A blushing crow still sits with me Where a softer landing used to be I taste the worm of wasted time And call it something more like rhyme Morning light on the windowsill The bunny phone is quiet still I almost called, then let it ring Afraid of what the truth might bring You were the master of the room I was the one who came too soon Now every corner holds a ghost Of the toast I never made the most Words keep slipping off my tongue Like they were never really sung On the second pass I hear it clear The things I meant but couldn't steer A blushing crow still sits with me Where a softer landing used to be I taste the worm of wasted time And call it something more like rhyme If I could sew you to another sheet Maybe we'd find a different seat But the pie is occupied tonight And I'm still learning how to get it right On the second pass I hear it clear The things I meant but couldn't steer A blushing crow still sits with me Where a softer landing used to be I taste the worm of wasted time And call it something more like rhyme So I'll keep listening twice Until the switches feel precise