David Francey The Waking Hour
In love, the hour of realization and reckoning during a
period of silence and doubt.
(May 31, 2000. Ayers Cliff, Quebec)
I wake to the radio morning news
Just as the day is dawning
And I watch from the window while a passing cloud
Dulls the hopeful morning
And I wonder will the girl I love
Come back with the morning
But the omen crow at the waking hour
Has given me fair warning
And the heart that's breaking
Never makes a sound
She was once my heart's delight
My need and my desire
She was my day, she was my night
My water and my fire
And I was once the same to her
When we still walked together
But the heavy heart at the waking hour's
Expecting heavy weather
And the heart that's breaking
Never makes a sound
I know love
I've seen love's face
I understand its sorrow
For every love I've ever had
Has always met tomorrow
Though I am Wednesday's child of woe
I try not to be ungrateful
But I was born at midnight black
With a heart that can be hateful
And the heart that's breaking
Never makes a sound
And the heart that's breaking
Never makes a sound
And the heart that's breaking
Never makes a sound
