I do not listen with my ears anymore, I listen with my toes,
I listen with my eyes, my lips, my very skin.
I listen with my heart, I listen with my soul.
I hear things deep in songs I can't stand,
In the hushed whispers of the wind,
Even in the rabble of traffic, the echoes of
My shoes on the pavement when I walk alone.
I retrace our steps from that day in the lazy sunlight.
I listen to the birds who have too much to say,
They remind me of how I talk too much,
Especially when I'm around you.
I hear your heartbeat in the twilight insects,
Listen for your voice as I lay in the grass.
I hear it if I close my eyes, it lives there,
In that place on the hill, in the clover that grows,
In the butterflies we watched too long, in the smell
Of the oak tree overhead.
I hold it close to my heart, I sing that song I don't know,
A song I can't stand, because here you sang it,
Your eyes trained on me, I could feel them then.
And now, wishing you were here with me,
I listen with my very skin.