Wind and Sea

[Verse 1] I wrote about the moon again, the silver edge of rain, the way the evening folds itself around a windowpane. I wrote the sea into a line, then crossed it out twice. Too obvious, perhaps. Too much like something a publisher would like. [Pre-Chorus] You read it anyway. You said, “That’s very you.” I wanted to defend myself, but I was smiling too. [Chorus] So let the wind be only wind, let the sea stay far away. I don’t need a perfect metaphor for what I mean to say. You took my hand. I lost my words. The moon can wait outside. Tonight, you stayed. And that was poetry enough. [Verse 2] I told you not to trust strangers, not to wander home too late, not to send your photographs to people you just met. You called me “Teacher” with that smile. I said I’d get upset. Then checked the time, the street, the weather— and whether you had eaten yet. [Pre-Chorus] You laughed, “You worry far too much.” I know. I always do. But every little warning is another way of saying I care about you. [Chorus] So let the rain be only rain, let the stars behave tonight. I don’t need another paragraph to make the feeling right. You leaned on me. I held my breath. For once, I didn’t hide. Tonight, you stayed. And that was poetry enough. [Bridge] Maybe love is not a poem. Maybe love is booking two seats, walking on the safer side, waiting until you get home, pretending not to notice when your fingers find mine. Maybe I have made this far too complicated. ...Please don’t laugh. [Final Chorus] Let the wind go where it wants. Let the sea forget my name. I have spent so many nights making loneliness sound beautiful. But you are here. That changes things. No metaphor survives. Tonight, you stayed. No moon. No sea. No clever line. Just you. And, embarrassingly, I think I like that best.