And That Was When They Started to Run

I was on the couch,

Harmonica in hand.

You were outside the door,

Sunglasses in hand.

There are just times that I can't do without,

And the snow will fall from Heaven,

And I'll think myself back to Scotland,

To the bed I shared with her and early mornings,

And my breath will catch in time and pattern out,

The pitches that she said spoke of weary travels,

Till the room is empty,

The sound of the air conditioning consuming the air.

Your sunglasses fall as you walk down the hallway.