The sound of a screen door slam haunts her memory
the sound that always takes her back to the night he set her free
but freedom is a funny word for losing the heart
that only a week ago she called “mine”
She was half adream when she heard that crack split the dead of night
she jumped outta bed an stumbled cross the floor
but all she caught was a bank of tail lights fadin outta sight
through a trail of dust down westbound fifty four
It was then that she remembered a note she’d found the other day
‘n’ knew he was off to meet a dancing star out Amarillo way
so as she stood there shakin while the crickets told the tale
she took their lonesome song to be her own
When through that moonlight chorus came an echo in her head
of the last words he’d ever spoke her way
They went,
“What’s the use a hangin on to what’s done and gone?
When the fire dies ain’t it high time to move along?”
So when he left he left her something more than just this little song
the night he left that girl to hear those crickets whine
by the screen door slam awoken
the night he left her broken
heart behind
copyright©2007 michaeljamesprue
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