Hanging On
Afternoon gold, molten roads,
and monochrome daydreams.
Vagabond songs get tossed out
like lukewarm empties.
If the sun cuts out early, it won’t be too soon,
there’s a spoonful of moonlight coming on.
I’m just hanging on.
Somewhere there’s a town where the sun’s going down
delicately.
Where shadows dissolve in the evening’s resolve
and she gets me, she lets me.
For every soft contour, a thousand love songs
I have written and delivered them all.
I’m just hanging on.
Hanging on to something,
something that wants to let go.
Stuck in the middle of nowhere
feeling half the way home.
The high tension lines go on for miles…
…and miles and miles,
to the incandescent glow from her bedroom window,
guiding me on through the night.
The radio’s playing one of her songs,
then it crackles…fades…and it’s gone.
I’m just hanging on.
© Kevin Higgins