If It Wasn’t Love
Once again the sun has fled
Beneath the clouds under the bed
The rain is waiting in the wings
Full of nerves that smile and sting
The radio has said its peace
And gone out to smoke a cigarette
Another year of war and drought
Wildfires that won’t burn out
And whatever dream I had last night
Was not of peace or wrong or right
But little movies of my life
Small town mirrors, big town strife
As if I dropped my tall thin past
Put my fist right through the glass
Then tracked mud all through the house
Full of memory, full of doubt
If it wasn’t love what was it then
A gifted heart too torn to mend
A slowing down and final yell
Breath that barely rose and fell
An arrow sharpens to a point
A kiss’ll linger in the joint
Then there’s that silence in the hall
When there’s no one home at all