Notebook

I showed him my notebook
the underside of my soul released
in scribbles on pages
he smiled and held my hand

I knew that he would see
for he dreams of touching beauty, too
there has to be more than the work day

he's painting houses
he's painting houses for awhile
then home to his canvas
coming to life

I write in my notebook
this feeling, it takes me by surprise
in thoughts that I don't know that I have

they're hidden by useless facts that I
compile at the office where I work
where there is no time for
feeling anything

you see I just work there
to finance the real life that begins
with scribbles on pages
and thoughts of how and why

museums on sundays
whenever we can we both go
and stay there for hours, feeding our spirit

and beauty is still free
and beauty is not exclusive
and beauty is ours to touch and to know
touch and to know

and don't you think there's more
I really have to know
don't you think there's more to life?
don't you think there's more to life?