Stories That Get Told

And I should see you walk in from our garden The sun a soporific on your shoulder blades And you should kick your shoes off at the door And mark me with the pollen on your fingertips Instead December brought the pouring rain The whimsy of the season Dampened by the day And sometimes change is incremental To the point we can convince ourselves we're still the same But as the streetlights flicker on Under skin and bone, we're all awash With something borrowed And everything I want is at rest between these walls Someday we'll all be Stories that get told But told incorrectly But our trail won't grow cold Our trail won't grow Our trail won't grow cold, cold So now we watch you walking in our garden And what a many-splendoured sight you are to see And there'll be dancing, there'll be scars But you're my garden, you're my garden You were grown from me So when you leap, you must leap longingly And leap across the length and breadth of legacy For in this garden, we will write for you A story you will learn by heart then long to leave And as the streetlights flicker on Under skin and bone, we're all awash With something borrowed And everything I want is at rest between these walls Someday we'll all be Stories that get told But told incorrectly But our trail won't grow cold Our trail won't grow Our trail won't grow cold, cold