Lyrics
The swing still moves when the wind is right, though no one waits their turn anymore. I know which boards on the dock still creak, which streetlight hums before it wakes, which houses used to keep their curtains open. The world keeps setting places at the table, and I keep forgetting what I came for. Some evenings arrive already faded, like photographs, left too long in the sun. The bike path behind the school is smaller now. The trees lean closer than I remembered. Even the river seems quieter, as if it spent the years learning not to interrupt. I stand where we used to waste whole afternoons, and nothing asks me to stay. The sky changes color without permission, and the day folds itself away before I find a reason to follow it. Not sad enough to break, not whole enough to sing, just watching summer linger in things that learned to stay without me. The world keeps setting places at the table, and I keep forgetting what I came for. Some evenings arrive already faded, like photographs.