Turtle Cove

How manynightscan one manspendalone Just as the bookachesfor the tree, I'machingfor my own And who are you and who am I to say onereasonwhy Eachmountainpass, and icy blast,leavesateardropin your eye And theshimmerof thestarsleads toreadingsof thecardsthat says something's missing But I'm apatientof the past and Ireallythink at last I caneraseit But mybellystarts tocrawlbecause thehiccupon the phone, itkeepsme thinking HowevergentleI may dream, ofpatientblues ordeepergreens, Istillam longing