The wind it tackles

The leaves and the litter

The leaves and the litter

It leaves in the past.

 

The sun it is drying

The paint and the puddles

The paint and the puddles

Not tears from the past.

 

I saw the bend coming

The bend was approaching

The bend in the road

That soon would be passed.

 

I saw her look darken

She hoped I was joking

But we were now broken.

They were now in the past.

 

Tommy Carroll image and words