PARKDALE NIGHT
The hum, the pulse,
Of the soft city lull is sung.
When the midnight stars are hung
We wait for the sun to come ‘round.
Then out of the calm the siren sings out the song
Of best laid plans gone wrong.
There are things I would like to remember
And things I would like to forget.
But show me a light in the Parkdale night
And I’ll gladly sink my regrets
In your dark eyes.
The eye, the lens,
The letter that Jesus sends
When the daylight slips again
Into the web of the night.
But you, and I we spoke with the city that night -
Perched high above streetlight.
There are things I would like to remember
And things I would like to forget.
But show me a light in the Parkdale night
And I’ll gladly sink my regrets
In your dark eyes.
