Eight Minutes

I could call this day done Eight minutes more I could climb aboard that cloud And ride the snowflakes falling I could slam back one last cigarette Stained with leftover lipstick I could swing myself from jeans To a satin sheeted bed I could remember how you sighed Just before our long distance goodbye I could spin my cares into a skein Of woolen why-should-I-worry yarn I could look back at all I've packed Knowing moving forward takes a leap I could let the clock tick tock alone Unaffected, give way to much needed sleep I could allow this last twenty four hours To dissolve into well steeped memory tea In just eight minutes