Hours Like Houses The hours like houses On a hillside We are always climbing, Trying to catch The fireflies of our breath. Some have their lights on, Others are dark. Why am I drawn Towards the darker houses, Where I know my knocking Will make those Who my fist will wake Go stiller, quieter Than they were even in sleep? Maybe because The hours that refuse to Let us in Cannot Be the last hours.
Hours Like Houses
Hours Like Houses
Hours Like Houses
Hours Like Houses The hours like houses On a hillside We are always climbing, Trying to catch The fireflies of our breath. Some have their lights on, Others are dark. Why am I drawn Towards the darker houses, Where I know my knocking Will make those Who my fist will wake Go stiller, quieter Than they were even in sleep? Maybe because The hours that refuse to Let us in Cannot Be the last hours.