Pete McDonald: Music

It could be simple,
simple as your hands against a tune
easy as the wind through summer branches
reaching up to touch the gazing moon.

Like the moon, it's a kind of magic.
You seem close enough to hold
until I reach out through the darkness
and you turn faraway and cold.

What if it's possible
just to leave the cards on the table where they lay.
Forget someone else's songs for a moment.
Forget someone else's wrongs can't right the way.

Like the moon, pulling oceans.
I never could read those charts.
I'm losing castles to the waters.
Can't tame the tides of my own heart.

You sit by the window, striped with moonlight through the blinds,
and I wait like a tiger in the grass.
It takes all the strength I have left in my mind
just to smile and let you pass.

Couldn't it be yesterday,
me here alone with my pages and my pain.
Couldn't you come back through my open door
from the garden, wet with rain.

Like the moon through a window pane
where you'd have the right to be.
Like the moon giving back the light
that you make shine in me.