Stories you told, they stuck with me
In my field trips through your memories
I loved to learn the places you'd been.
Places unlike anything I've seen,
Brought to life through storytelling
From France to the Indies; the top of Mount Washington.
Now today, times change and pass you by
Like cars on the street at night
Yet you never seem to mind.
Your stories that never grow old,
In the aged leather bindings of your soul
Will rest peacefully between you and me.
Time it seems, it learns to dream
When the world keeps on turning
As the pages in your book are running out of ink.
Time it seems, has been kind to me
As I've keep my youth steadily
In kind with the rhyme and the reason
Of your bones.
Time it seems, will catch up to me
Some point before eternity,
In kind, with the rhyme and the reason,
Of your bones.
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 10:11 PM UTC
Stories you told, they stuck with me
In my field trips through your memories
I loved to learn the places you'd been.
Places unlike anything I've seen,
Brought to life through storytelling
From France to the Indies; the top of Mount Washington.
Now today, times change and pass you by
Like cars on the street at night
Yet you never seem to mind.
Your stories that never grow old,
In the aged leather bindings of your soul
Will rest peacefully between you and me.
Time it seems, it learns to dream
When the world keeps on turning
As the pages in your book are running out of ink.
Time it seems, has been kind to me
As I've keep my youth steadily
In kind with the rhyme and the reason
Of your bones.
Time it seems, will catch up to me
Some point before eternity,
In kind, with the rhyme and the reason,
Of your bones.
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