Fallen leaves in the gutter, the seasons they clutter.
The heaven we reach with the touch of our cheek.
Standing high on the roof.
I see ice in the eaves, the frost as it heaves,
The day that you left me is hard to believe.
The breeze that carried your song never returned.
Skylights casting their glow. The twilight will know,
I was chasing my shame down a hard dirt road.
Chasing it back to the roof.
I see shingles and sheathes, chimneys that breathe out
The sorrow that lived in the house all the years.
Memories dance through the air into the night.
Rain that goes to the drain, flowing the same
As the day that my father first called me by name.
Calling me up to the roof.