Autumn ’85
Blessed is the face that shines on me tonight
the smell of the perfume on the collar of the coat.
The heat, the presence, the touch of the hand.
Blessed is the feel of the finger on my throat.
Blessed is the feel of the finger on my throat.
Blessed are the eyes that watch me while I’m gone.
Eyes wide set, coal black and deep.
They lock on me, they hold me, steer me to my home.
Blessed are the eyes that disturb me in my sleep.
Blessed are the eyes that disturb me in my sleep.
Blessed am I for she is mine!
Blessed are the lips that kiss this tired head,
that speak to me the only words that I can understand.
The lips that hypnotize, the whisper that moves,
Blessed is the kiss that marks the man.
Blessed is the kiss that marks the man.
Blessed,
Blessed.
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