There are times that walk from you
Like some passing afternoon
Summer warmed the open window
Of her honeymoon

And she chose a yard to burn
But the ground remembers her
Wooden spoons, her children stir
Her bougainvillea blooms

There are things that drift away
Like our endless numbered days
Autumn blew the quilt right off
The perfect bed she made

And she's chosen to believe
In the hymns her mother sings
Sunday pulls its children
From their piles of fallen leaves

There are sailing ships that pass
All our bodies in the grass
Springtime calls her children
'Til she lets them go at last

And she's chosen where to be
Though she's lost her wedding ring
Somewhere near her misplaced jar
Of bougainvillea seeds

There are things we can't recall
Blind as night that finds us all
Winter tucks her children in
Her fragile china dolls

But my hands remember hers
Rolling 'round the shaded ferns
Naked arms, her secrets still
Like songs I'd never learned

There are names across the sea
Only now I do believe
Sometimes with the windows closed
She'll sit and think of me

But she'll mend his tattered clothes
And they'll kiss as if they know
A baby sleeps in all our bones
So scared to be alone