Remember when the porch light burned
like a star that wouldn’t let the night win?
You hummed this tune off-key, I kept the beat
with two old hearts and one rusty mandolin.
We swore the creek would carry our names
past every cotton field we’d ever known;
the moon hung low, a silver wedding ring—
we said forever, not knowing what we’d own.
Years roll on like gravel under chrome,
but that chorus still rides the wind,
and every time the thunder finds me alone
I start the song again.