Songs in My Head
Last night, I went over to Heather's house to play games with some other folk. One of the games we played is called Encore. The basic point of the game is that you have to think of songs - and be able to sing a line- that have a particular word. So, if the word was "blue" your team might sing the first line of "Blue Christmas", and the other team might sing the line from "Zippedee Do Dah" about "little bluebird on my shoulder". You go back and forth like that until one team can't think of a song before their timer runs out. Everyone got it? Good. So, one of the words last night was "snow". After this morning, I have another song for that round. With much thanks and gratitude to Mitch and Dan, who are apparently always out shoveling - at least, they were this morning when I needed to get my car out of the lot!
February - by Dar Williams
I threw your keys in the water, I looked back,
They'd frozen halfway down in the ice.
They froze up so quickly, the keys and their owners,
Even after the anger, it all turned silent, and
The everyday turned solitary,
So we came to February.
First we forgot where wed planted those bulbs last year,
Then we forgot that wed planted at all,
Then we forgot what plants are altogether,
and I blamed you for my freezing and forgetting and
The nights were long and cold and scary,
Can we live through February?
You know I think Christmas was a long red glare,
Shot up like a warning, we gave presents without cards,
And then the snow,
And then the snow came, we were always out shoveling,
And wed drop to sleep exhausted,
Then wed wake up, and its snowing.
And February was so long that it lasted into March
And found us walking a path alone together.
You stopped and pointed and you said, "That's a crocus,"
And I said, "What's a crocus?" and you said, "Its a flower,"
I tried to remember, but I said, "What's a flower?"
You said, "I still love you."
The leaves were turning as we drove to the hardware store,
My new lover made me keys to the house,
And when we got home, well we just started chopping wood,
Because you never know how next year will be,
And well gather all our arms can carry,
I have lost to February.