| She found a withered flower
|
| Between the pages of a book
|
| This book’s her book of memories
|
| Which off the shelf she took
|
| Tonight without a reason
|
| Except for feeling in the mood
|
| For a little journey backward
|
| To give her weary soul some food
|
| Some memories prick her like thorns
|
| Some really make her smile
|
| But she can’t stop holding that flower
|
| That speaks of a life that once was hers
|
| Out of reach, out of touch
|
| But right now back in sight
|
| She wishes she knew how to get back there
|
| With her eyes closed she lets her
|
| Memories take her on a ride
|
| She relives all she has been through
|
| And all she’s put aside
|
| It seems she had been walking
|
| Down a long and rocky road
|
| Sometimes she has been mourning
|
| Her head she never bowed
|
| Out of reach, out of touch
|
| But right now back in sight
|
| She wishes she’d know how to get back there
|
| Out of reach, out of touch
|
| But right now back in sight
|
| She misses him badly, and still she cares… |