What she does
by Steven Clotzman

The morning has a way
of wishing him “good-day!” when she calls
But forgetting who he is,
A tendency of his, he starts to fall
And whatever gets discussed
She don’t know what she does to him at all

There’s something in her eyes
A sadness or goodbye that has her stalled
He watches her at ease
Then turns so she won’t see that he’s enthralled
And it’s clear she’s slow to trust
She don’t know what she does to him at all
She don’t know what she does

She’s a steady hand
And he, a condemned man against the wall
The laughter that’s exchanged
Can’t really mean a thing in the long haul
‘Cause a heart just turns to rust
when it dreams what never was
She don’t know she does to him at all
She don’t know what she does


© 2012 Steven Clotzman - all rights reserved