Souvenirs

Here is a poem That my lady sent down Some morning while I was away. Wrote on the back of A leaf that she found Somewhere around Monterey. And here is the key To a house far away Where I used to live As a child. They tore down the building When I moved away And left the key unreconciled. And down in the canyon The smoke starts to rise. It rides on the wind Till it reaches your eyes. When faced with the past The strongest man cries... cries. And down in the canyon The smoke starts to rise. It rides on the wind Till it reaches your eyes. When faced with the past The strongest man cries... cries. And here is a sunrise To set on your sill. The ghosts of the dawn Moving near. They pass through your sorrow And leave you quite still... Sitting among souvenirs.