Last Light Stories

Pull up a chair,

sit close to the light

Let's trace the old photos before they fade from sight

You have your mother's sweet,

defiant chin

And I want to tell you where our steps begin

Oh,

hold onto the stories I might lose

The dusty red clay and the worn-out shoes Before the mist rolls

in

and clears the slate

Remember the laughter before it gets too late

(hold them close now)

We built that tire swing under the great oak tree

You grew so fast,

a wildflower running wild and free

I keep the picture right inside my chest

Though the names start to wander,

I still know the rest

Oh,

hold onto the stories I might lose

The dusty red clay and the worn-out shoes Before the mist rolls

in and clears the slate

Remember the laughter before it gets too late (remember for me)

And if tomorrow I look

into your eyes

And the recognition falters and dies

Just know my heart is holding you tight

Deep in the quiet,

beyond the white light

So hold them close...

Keep the stories safe (hmmmmm)