You have a deep affection for cold weather,
and old books;
the scent of rain,
sweaters, musty with age and wear.
Your heart beats in New York City,
in Fort Worth,
on a broadway stage
and the backseat of a crowded car.
It beats for music,
There are dark things and light things
and happiness and sadness,
all nestled safely in your hard and soft and young and old soul.
Oh, the things it will allow you to be,
if you will only be patient,