touched to warmth
but I was cold, I was cold.
a reel runs on
as we drift between sleeps
Guillaume
Guillaume
self sought to stay
but my self fell.
Elbows touch here but not there
where the reel runs off the real.
He watched my eyelids
then the ceiling grinning
at the warmth between our elbows.
I awakened to his eyelids.
He had fallen.
Guillaume
Guillaume
He was cold, he was cold.
Warm at the elbows.
I watched his eyelids
then the ceiling grinning
at the warmth between our elbows.
I was cold, I was cold.
And the reel runs on
the reel runs on
remorse:
we did not meet in mind asleep.
So I was cold, I was cold.
I took my elbow back to
take the only warmth we had.
Now both eyes touch
and nothing more,
nothing more
Guillaume
Guillaume
Now we’re warm.
We are warm.
And the reel runs on
the reel runs on
