Cold and Warm, Blue and Red

They no longer feel that passion or connection until they see their grieving daughter.

Neither fully in shape

Out of practise

Holding out a hand to touch the nape

Of her neck

She twists and turns, a picture of blue

Red glinting in her hair

A mane to build the stair

To his redemptive future

Clutching at their last chances

Out of practise

Where is that passion?

Where is that quaking love that channeled their every move?

How can you mend the broken pieces

When you don't know how they fit in?

How do you measure times gone by

With a ruler that's bent and misshapen?

Ruled by a cold heart

Ending in a warm bed

Never to rest

Never to sleep

Least ways not while they grieve

Least ways not while they still are cold

No longer a connection

Binding them so close

No longer that retention of cold cold hopes

A knot to tie

Eyes to the sky

Watching watching now

Push to the edge

Hands on the ridge

And the curtain draws me down.