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.


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