waking to the sound of trucks as they drive up my street
and she is quietly sleeping
i turn my head, anxious as a boy on friday
with just enough resolve to ask
and i turn myself around
my back cracks out a sound
and she is softly stirring
i turn myself around
her stirring becomes loud
and i believe she's waking
and she makes everything seem possible
she takes my dreams and pulls them out of my head
and when i've opened every fiber to her love
she asks me for more
i rise to give her more
in a life where repetition's way too common
it's nice to think that this may be the last time
i lay my head back on this pillow
i may never confess in coffee shops again
i turn myself around
the sun is coming out like joni's chelsea morning
and she turns herself around
hums her waking sound
and reaches for me gently
and she makes everything seem possible
she takes my dreams and pulls them out of my head
and when i've opened every fiber to her love
she asks me for more
i rise to give her more
coffee talk at 8 a.m.
recounting dreams and making plans
now i see, i understand
that i am not alone
she is not alone