It's a still life watercolor
Of a now-late afternoon
As the sun shines through the curtain lace
And shadows wash the room
And we sit and drink our coffee
Couched in our indifference, like shells upon the shore
You can hear the ocean roar
In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs
The borders of our lives
And you read your Emily Dickinson
And I my Robert Frost
And we note our place with book markers
That measure what we've lost
Like a poem poorly written
We arе verses out of rhythm
Couplets out of rhymе
In syncopated time (in syncopated time)
And the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs
Are the borders of our lives
Of a now-late afternoon
As the sun shines through the curtain lace
And shadows wash the room
And we sit and drink our coffee
Couched in our indifference, like shells upon the shore
You can hear the ocean roar
In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs
The borders of our lives
And you read your Emily Dickinson
And I my Robert Frost
And we note our place with book markers
That measure what we've lost
Like a poem poorly written
We arе verses out of rhythm
Couplets out of rhymе
In syncopated time (in syncopated time)
And the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs
Are the borders of our lives
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