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