I hear a wind chime choir raise its voice with the impending storm

As I press my lips against a bottle on my front porch

I hear your voice on the phone

Your cigarette-stained vocal cords

As you whisper to me about your day

I fall asleep

And I want to be in that room

Looking out your window at Texas

But dreams die as the light dances across glistening pastures and the passing of time

With tears in my eyes I accept it

Nothing matters

Nothing matters

I screamed it over and over and over

All the spaces we wander

The light that we bend

The golden hours, rushing

All the lovely by needs must be ending

I cry because it all has mattered so much to me

How joyous our passing?

Our Irish goodbyes

The sun on the side of the road when the engine dies

The beautiful ache of all our little secrets

Small wonders for only our eyes