Somewhere

Somewhere between the quiet

and the haze, I go

to sit for a while.

Somewhere

between the quiet

and the haze.

And you might ask me

what I hope to find there.

You might ask me if it’s true.

That the haze shimmers like a thousand suns,

and the quiet melts like vanilla cream

on apple pie, oh, sweet love.

I would tell you

you must seek for yourself

the whispers, true.

Somewhere between the quiet and the haze

you must go.