Skies and mountains, moons and suns have won my trust.
Tomorrow only always on my mind, it’s good, I trust.
Spinny doors somewhere else, in a city far, this is what people are
like pretty faces all around, beware of snakes and who to trust.
Soon, hoping for a break of time, a long empty stretch of nothing, for nothing;
new places, strange airs, to ask for coffee where I’ve never been, and to trust.
Yellow signs mean caution, spend it right, and mark them, eenie-meenie-miney-mo
far away she works and lives and cries and mourns the end of where she put her trust.
We trust like we flinch, fear it like monsters and need it like air;
solitary walks by the river, smooth rock in the hand to throw, to hold, to trust.
Featured image attribution, “Yellow” by Julien Chatelain was made available via Creative Commons License CC-BY-SA 2.0. The image has not been changed.