The lid comes off, the yellow sheets lie bare
The folds keep every wrinkle that we shared
The years can change the rhythm that we kept
The ink still holds the light that never slept
I moved the bookshelf, the tin box gave a clang
A broken ribbon let the papers slide
Two postmarks from years ago, both faintly stained
And handwriting I knew at first sight
The paper smell wanders like an old song
A pressed flower has slept here all along
One folded corner keeps a tiny moon
Chalked on a ledge outside my childhood room
The lid comes off, the yellow sheets lie bare
The folds keep every wrinkle that we shared
With every line the distance pulls me near
And all the silent years begin to clear
The lid comes off, the yellow sheets lie bare
The folds keep every wrinkle that we shared
The years can change the rhythm that we kept
The ink still holds the light that never slept
The paper smell wanders like an old song
A pressed flower has slept here all along
One folded corner keeps a tiny moon
Chalked on a ledge outside my childhood room
The lid comes off, the yellow sheets lie bare
The folds keep every wrinkle that we shared
With every line the distance pulls me near
And all the silent years begin to clear
The lid comes off, the yellow sheets lie bare
The folds keep every wrinkle that we shared
The years can change the rhythm that we kept
The ink still holds the light that never slept
