Friday, August 30, 2002

Every year around this time, something -- the new birds visiting the backyard, the occasional leaves drying up and swirling around the trees, the change of color of the sky -- spells fall. I'm grateful from the promised relief from the heat and humidity, but when this seasonal change begins, I feel the slightest melancholy.

This song says it best for me:

There are a few new freckles on your shoulders
the hammock swings lower and touches the grass
the apples are ripe and the corn is past
everyone says summer goes by so fast
and we just got here

I can hardly believe it but it’s ended
the beach is a haze and old love’s a ghost
Hugo is twisting his way up the coast
if you blew out to sea I’d love you most
and we just got here

Nostalgia, you fake, you bittersweet ache
the time that you take could make another heart whole
could the truth be, that I won’t really see, how much I love you, till it's over

The two of us left here alone in the house
you bleed the pipes while I bring in the plants
put our faces in place for September’s dance
if you’re willing, I’m willing to take one more chance
and we just got here


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