I’m fixing a hole where the rain gets in
And stops my mind from wandering—where it should never go.
I’m filling the cracks with the paint of your grin,
Every stroke a small hello, every color a home I know.
Silicon laughter drips down the wall,
I catch it in pockets of song;
Tomorrow’s grey paper is peeling, that’s all,
But tonight the wet sky feels soft as a swan.
So I stay, finger-painting the weather,
Patching the clouds into blue;
The hole keeps the beat of our hearts together—
I fix it, and it fixes you.