| Her window looked on North Church Street
|
| An attic space overgrown
|
| A photo book of smiling friends
|
| Road maps, New York, Los Angeles
|
| Her walls are Mediterranean blue
|
| Her baby sister picked the hue
|
| Saltwater taffy, Jersey shore
|
| Blue like the fingernails she wore
|
| Her house is not far from the school
|
| Her mom taught on the Hudson
|
| Her dad’s guitar sings open-tuned
|
| Reverberates up through the floor
|
| Our love grew more one summer there
|
| Where we’d spend our days just driving around
|
| Old parking lots and neighborhoods
|
| Are framed and charmed in Moorestown
|
| I followed her across the earth
|
| Through parks in London, coasts of Perth
|
| Newport, Kentucky, New Orleans
|
| We shared a million lives, it seems
|
| I slept with her so many nights
|
| We moved together heavenly
|
| So close the North Pacific slept
|
| You too were once beside me
|
| She moved away to Williamsburg
|
| Her eyes, sad eyes were waving
|
| My thoughts will pause, my throat will swell
|
| When her name is spoken
|
| And looking past the cold long sea
|
| I cannot bear to wonder now
|
| If the cascading soft lights
|
| Are glowing for us in Moorestown |