Passing Afternoon

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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
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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 'til she lets 'em 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
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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