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Open Tales

Bora York

Under the swampy glow
With glossy green, prairie tide
It's where our goodwill painted its own
Our clothes held us tight

Closer, closer, you were close to me
When our hearts painted their own
Over northern hills, our cryptic tales breed the script
Darling, don't forget our clasp in the stairwell
Untouched, a city froze

We felt the wind in our bones
That's when we left our dreams, we left them alone
Under gleaming Aprils, our open tales, tell our love story
Darling, don't forget the words that gave us breath