still

I am sitting alone watching the world
Outside my window flutter and shift
As I lay still
I try to find my voice in the stereo
And some meaning in the pocket of my corduroys
All I find is a hole
A dozen oatmeal cookies burn in the oven
And a special 13th just for you
Cools in my hand
According to Ben its not about distance
Its always been about thinking what you feel
But you still feel far away
Life continues to move
Each moment that passes a testimony to love
Being a prerequisite to breath
How long can I stare at the wall
Before it begins to show me a future
One I will accept
I sing myself a lullaby of transatlanticism
The cats sigh and the stereo grows quiet
As I stay, still