I sat down on the edge of the bed
Watching you fill your old suitcase
"Don't forget to water the flowers," you said
"I'll call when I get someplace."
It was a warm spring day like the very first day
When I first heard you singing in the square
I stopped to listen there as the sky turned gray
Your voice lifted up like a prayer
Seems like a hundred years ago
And dozens of thousands of songs ago
But you don't sing for me anymore
You don't sing for me anymore
The sky went from blue, then to gold
And then it faded
Alone in the dark I saw a shape
I hesitated
A case thick with dust
And filled with old handwritten pages
Songs you wrote for me to sing
But I never sang for you