Subtle Alchemy

Little patches of snow Everyday another goes Ambient traffic snores Sitting still in her car Dead cells on winter skin Fresh ones form and cycle in Heat ignites, a humming sound Blowing particles around And it feels like And it feels like Mouthfuls of crusty bread Smoke rises from the shed Light through a lampshade Turns black fur into gray Thoughts stroll like passersby The engine comes alive In a frame, your hands on me A subtle alchemy And it feels like And it feels like A metal motion in the drive Combustion smoke from a pipe In hand, a key he holds Catches light and turns to gold An open door, your hands on me A subtle alchemy And it feels like And it feels like And it feels like And it feels like