Rare Thing – Frances Quinlan

My love,
In the dream
You were already speaking
I was too shocked to make
Any one of my tired speeches
Listen,
That’s a rare thing for me

Sunlight touches on the
Plants that I’ve been torturing
Yet when I come over
I love that quick delay before
Your face alights
In recognition

I know there is
Love that doesn’t have to do with
Taking something
From somebody
Was so much for me
Not real? I only managed to stay small by
Making giants out of strangers
Through the chaos I can see
All afternoon you inhale
Every bouquet you meet

Come to think of it,
The dream
Was a nightmare
With no one who knew me
Just then
You were there
2 foot tall little bear, you
Took my hand and
Introduced me to everybody
I watched as you were named on
That mid-February morning

I know there is
Love that doesn’t have to do with
Taking something
From somebody
Was so much for me
Not real? I only managed to stay small by
Making giants out of strangers
Through the chaos I can see
All afternoon you inhale
Every bouquet you meet
I have to stop myself and admit I am happy

There is
Love that doesn’t have to do with
Taking something
From somebody
Was so much for me
Not real? I only managed to stay small by
Making giants out of strangers
Through the window you look at me

I have to stop myself and admit
You make me happy