Crazy
Mon, 26 Oct 1998 09:54:29 EST (19 lines)
The ceiling seems so low
I could touch it on tiptoe
it is not very far to go
seems ready enough to fall
to get room for my head
these dark thoughts in my bed
I peer outside instead
and wait for her to call
I map a route I may never drive
count dollars I'd need to survive
add miles that me from her divide
cause the separation between us
I pine as here I endure
all the thoughts I have of her
she with all of her allure
three thousand miles away
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