rambling

she sits in a diner, completely alone
having conversations with the salt and sugar
as time goes by she notices less
the things that used to bother her
her empty pockets, the holes in her shoes
the weather beating on the windowpane..
for what matters most to a person
whose heart's made out of cellophane
oh the hours spent on the road are many
most driven in depths of self-pity
this journey's lasted many months
next up is Salt Lake City
the lights and sounds do calm her down
the road rocks her to sleep
she looks so peaceful resting there
but the tranquility is only skin-deep
the raging battle she fought to conceal
is bursting at the seems
the only place for her surely to be safe
is the refuge of her dreams
perhaps that's why she likes the night
and such stories i've heard her tell
the visions she has for fantasies of love
she fears are hopeless, some reality parallel
i pray, my dear, you find your prince
he will save you, this part is true
for the numerous obstacles left for you to face
he will help you seem them through
i know this day is coming
very unexpected and very soon
possibly a friend, or someone you trust
maybe the man sitting right in front of you.

for those few hours

its short, but im tryin a new rhyme scheme. (for once, ha)

im stealing time from the clock on the wall
my dear, its getting late
seconds pass as i anticipate
what does a clock need with time after all?
always keeping it to itself
sitting prideful above the shelf
but if i could just borrow but a few more hours
just allow me the chance
to conclude my advance
and i will return to submit to your power
to more days too short
where i mundanely consort
but in those few hours
we'll spend in his pocket of time
this frozen moment remains ours
and you will remain mine
for those few hours