Layla

The tap tap falling rain, gauges your great freedom, a hurting awakens, for the cafe's and diners, within last nights ease, solace turns blind, and your home erased, except on these yellow streets, you walk all day, where love gets twined, beneath cooling trees, blue air melts in crime, Our Lady knows your ways, in these hot seasons, whatever you have to say, does it matter the maze, the river's release, the balm of better days, makes you weep.