How is it sunny with so much rain?
What is creative? What is insane?
Why don’t you smile? Where is your pain?
There’s a light at the end of the tunnel and it’s not a train.
I’m headed your way.
Star-lit lips, a hand on her hip.
She shoots, then blows on her two fingertips.
Never at me. As if I don’t exist.
Day and night slide, the start of a trip.
She whispers, ‘quiet’ on one fingertip.
She looks toward me, but again we miss.
How is it sunny with so much rain?
What is creative? What is insane?
Why don’t you smile? Where is your pain?
There’s a light out there and it’s not a train.
I’m headed your way.
This city’s skyline has shoulders.
She lives like she’s never getting older.
A feeling so free, nothing could own her.
While memory lane gets colder,
I stroll through without ever getting older,
Re-living all the secrets that I told her.
I aim for hearts and I always miss.
Today’s the start of a life-long trip.
Feel free and settle down.
this is your life chuck johnson 