Cosas que se pierden para siempre

Y yo me pregunto, si alguna vez piensas en lo que perdiste, si alguna vez piensas en lo que pudimos haber sido, si alguna vez piensas en mi...

There are times that walk from you,

like some passing afternoon.

Summer warmed the open window

of her honeymoon 

And she chose a yard to burn,

but the ground remembers her 

Wooden spoons, her children stir her 

Bougainvillea blooms.

There are things that drift away,

like our endless, numbered days 

Autumn blew the quilt right off the

perfect bed she made 

And she's chosen to believe 

in the hymns her mother sings 

Sunday pulls its children from their 

piles of fallen leaves 

There are sailing ships that pass

all our bodies in the grass 

Springtime calls her children 'till she

let's them go at last 

And she's chosen where to be, 

though she's lost her wedding ring 

Somewhere near her misplaced jar 

of Bougainvillea seeds.

There are things we can't recall, 

blind as night that finds us all 

Winter tucks her children in, 

her fragile china dolls 

But my hands remember hers, 

rolling 'round the shaded ferns 

Naked arms, her secrets still like

songs I'd never learned.

There are names across the sea, 

only now I do believe 

Sometimes, with the windows closed, 

she'll sit and think of me 

But she'll mend his tattered clothes 

and they'll kiss as if they know 

A baby sleeps in all our bones, 

so scared to be alone.