Comfortable

I cry for you
about twenty two o'clock
when the clouds fall
and the fog lifts
before the dew
kisses the morning light

I cry for you
about a quarter past eight thirty
when the sun rises
and the air is still fresh
with a virgin scent of night

I cry for you
I have not replaced your love
nor have I fell into the words
of untruth

I have found comfort in "The Word"
which is all I ever wanted was to be
"Comfortable"