(John Lombardo/Mary Ramsey)
Piles of dead leaves, warm wind blowing crabapple trees
Hands to the sky, eye at the keyhole on bended bare knees
Lying face down, small eyes glancing room all around
Dark at the stairs, the warm wind blowing breath through hair
Without a home alone
Suffering and not saying so
That lesser souls will never see me
Turning back again and again
I went my way, looking around at scars on the ground
You went your way, naming the stars, the stairs, the shells, the trees
Mud in our toes, the red rocks glowing in the glistening stream and catching raindrops few
Iridescence in the haze
The colours twisting in and out
The crunch the creek the crackle the crow
And you on your way to school
Me sitting all alone
Playing with the dusty things
Waiting for the hall clock's chime to ring
We were two, just two you, you, you, you
And everything we did so far
Lightning bugs in canning jars
Rocks and rings and funny things
Ashes, ashes we all fall down
Late Sunday night, there on the table package from you
Woolen bright socks, stripes and dots of burgundy blues
Soles have been worn playing around in different towns
Sometimes when I sleep
The sounds from the window they bring me on back
When we went away dancing in the rain
I was splashing you here, everywhere you
And you on your way to school, me sitting home alone
Rocks and rings and funny things in our boxes all away
I collected more than you, went fishing, this and that with you
Rocks and rings and funny things all around you