Rain on the porch step, I open the little window— watch the drizzle blur the edges of this day. Her voice calls softly from rooms I haven’t entered yet. She forgets the names of things— but remembers the part of her already flying. Sometimes she calls my name like I stepped outside of time— but really I’m just in the hallway, learning how love walks slower now. She forgets the names of things— but remembers the part of her already flying. Something opens behind forgetting, Something opens behind forgetting— And I’ll be here, softly— learning how to stay while she flies. ───── [Lyrics © Mario Caoile]
