Walking home, can’t feel a thing
See the world, it’s what I’m missing
All the pieces mean so much
What they lack is just a touch

Wood frames, metal bars
From a distance, have no scars
Hands elude them, now I see
Once upon their tapestry

And is it all in vain?
How long have they been waiting?
Nothing more than dust
Just waiting to be touched

Wood frames, metal bars
From a distance, have no scars
Hands elude them, now I see
Once upon their tapestry

Walking home, can’t feel a thing
See the world, it’s what I’m missing
All the pieces mean so much
What they lack is just a touch

© 4/27/2003
William Grant Preston