Monday, September 26, 2016

eleven

365 more day have passed.

A friend sent me a song a couple weeks ago.
And it has been on constant repeat.

It's funny how a famous singer, who is a complete stranger, knows exactly how I feel.
She lost her mom a couple years ago so I guess she knows how I feel
because she feels it too.


"I Remember Her"
Ingrid Michaelson

There’s a house, that’s not on a hill
And the paint’s chipping off
Of the old window sill
There’s a tree in the front yard
That’s older than me
And older than all of you

There’s a smell that the heat makes
It reminds me of Christmas
And birthdays in December
I remember her
I remember her so well

But things they fade

She would kiss my hand
She would kiss my head
Then she’d fall asleep with me
In my tiny bed
She would sing me lullabies
Gave me my hazel eyes
And then she’d call me beautiful
She made me beautiful

I remember her
I remember her so well

But things they fade
Things turn to grey
As much as I try to save them
They turn grey
Just like the house, that’s not on a hill
With all of the rust on the gate
The chips on the sill
But I love it still






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