Fireflies mark the lines where neat cut st. augustine lies.
In front of what you know to be...
And bees are moving in the hollies working blossoms gently,
Using the sweet and heavy air.
Where the girth of the oaks has gotten wider than you remembered,
And dim lights glow to you while standing at the curb.
Come in, you're home.
The current and shade won't let me see you,
Down there where I know you are.
And I crouch here on the bank with my eyes held still.
Knowing you're down there, looking up.
So, I jump in.
I can't breathe but I soon figure out how.
And our world flows over, and tries to carry us away.
In an exchange of ideals and wills, we make a trade.
All while we've caught each other and given up the world we had.
To let it wash away while water fills our lungs.
