“ I lived awhile without you,
darn near half my life.
I no longer see our unborn children,
born to you my unwed wife.
But yesterday I had a vision,
beneath the tree where we once talked,
of an old couple burning
their love letters so their children
won’t be shocked.
darn near half my life.
I no longer see our unborn children,
born to you my unwed wife.
But yesterday I had a vision,
beneath the tree where we once talked,
of an old couple burning
their love letters so their children
won’t be shocked.
— Greg Brown, “Spring Wind,” off the Dream Cafe album
Some days it seems like memory is a kind of illness.
Some days it seems like memory is a kind of illness.
