Circulating memories of childhood amenities
Hurled beneath your feet like gold bricks and steppingstones
Your mother's loving remedies and the thought of praying for your enemies
I can feel you through the penmanship, I can tell you that you're not alone

Church on Sunday mornings, you're weeping through the rosary
Tears falling on your winter coat like rain drops through a Eulogy
Footsteps on the carpeting like the persistence of a metronome

When I pass your house I never will forget
Even when it's just dirt and they turn it into a parking lot
I'll always remember you, I'll always remember  the summer when I thought,
That you liked me.