Capo na 2ª casa.

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There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon 
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Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon
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And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her 
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Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms 
  

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There are things that drift away like our endless, numbered days 
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Autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made
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And she's chosen to believe in the hymns her mother sings 
Sunday pulls its children from their piles of fallen leaves 


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There are sailing ships that pass all our bodies in the grass 
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Springtime calls her children 'till she let's them go at last 
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And she's chosen where to be, though she's lost her wedding ring 
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Somewhere near her misplaced jar of Bougainvillea seeds 



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There are things we can't recall, blind as night that finds us all 
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Winter tucks her children in, her fragile china dolls 
But my hands remember hers, rolling 'round the shaded ferns 
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Naked arms, her secrets still like songs I'd never learned 



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There are names across the sea, only now I do believe 
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Sometimes, with the windows closed, she'll sit and think of me 
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But she'll mend his tattered clothes and they'll kiss as if they know 
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A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone


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