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

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

          D                   E           A               D
There are sailing ships that pass all our bodies in the grass 
A                    E                 D                 E
Springtime calls her children 'til she lets 'em go at last 
          D               E               A                   D
And she's chosen where to be though she's lost her wedding ring 
A                  E                D             E
Somewhere near her misplaced jar of bougainvillea seeds

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

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