locusts ring, the evening's damp
the moist grass bleeds in stillness
the moon remembers what it's seen
and all the things that might have been
your silence comes back all too soon
and suddenly it goes

rousing the air, a ceiling fan
curtains stir an evening mood
the quiet takes me back again
to all the things that might have been
but your silence comes back all too soon
beneath this sky and vacant moon
as I resurrect familiar tunes
and suddenly you go