Borrowed Breath

There’s Silence in my fishing town with nothing but the wind to shake the walls of my wooden house and beg me to let it in 

The salty air whips my hair around my pale and weathered skin as I sit and wait by the old Lighthouse for the storm clouds to roll in

I’m weathered and worn but my house is still standing against the wind and weather I’m torn from the sky are still know when the night begins

I cast my net into the deep blue which now reflects the stars a reminder of a deeper truth that which we hold is not ours

On borrowed breath I whistle a tune A TUNE THAT beckons sleep and memories of my mothers arms 

Not even memories will we keep 

I’m weathered and worn but my house is still standing against the wind and weather I’m torn from the sky are still know when the night begins

Breathe in lean back into the arms of rest 

Exhale slowly and turn to face the west 

I’m weathered and worn but my house is still standing against the wind and weather I’m torn from the sky are still know when the night begins