At the Opera With No Coat

Seven and ten naming days of the clock rung,
Not in the cross hairs, Well early at forever young
Passions and innocence blend, Songs are sung
Amidst many miles, Many seas, The tide upon
Phone calls are made, Little hearts are drawn
Pieces of paper age, Time's only number is one

And if he knew now,  All of the future's woes
What which ways, How long the wind blows
Would reality be different, alternate or slow
Because shoes walk a boy, Before stands a man
Catastrophes and fortunes, A curveball of plans
Time touched his face, His eyes, A dream outran

Deep beneath the rust, A torn and fading box
The first promises of a man, An unlikely paradox
The contents speak, Words, They became clocks
To voice them anyway, To mark them  true
Because time was different, Lovely and new
Because a girl changes history, Surely they do

Even after four and ten seasons, A drift out to sea
Long after the last phone call, An ending of glee
Just a picture or some words, The past becomes free
Through a long driven wind, do travelers chase dreams
Through perhaps a future clouded, new ones will teem
The memories of a child, Unlocked prayers of James Dean

She said you came back, Though the clock strikes late
I promised I would, Sorry about the unending wait
Perhaps Peter Pan and Wendy, Suppose another's fate
Though reality never meant much, Time, It stood still
Long enough to look out ahead, Drive forward or reel
Staring at the open road, An opportunity left to feel