The weaving dance of green and red

The weaving dance of green and red Comes sneaking through my dreaming head As surely as the day is long You come like verses of a song Most sweetly stuck inside me The song, in turn, is Penny Lane And whether good, or whether sane, Results are always just the same In my one-sided waiting game I wish someone could guide me And what would be my sign to you? What omen of my love for clue? If only I could say it plain, You are my muse, my love, my bane Remaining ever nameless I’ve thought it all out far too much Each word and tear, each kiss and touch, I’ve no idea what could be said To siphon out this lovely dread You’re almost all but blameless Mark Burton Wednesday, October 26, 2005, 7:36 A.M.