Memory Bird

My memory bird, when I’m walled up alone,
summons a song of a house of grey stone,
a bus and a tree and a feeling of free,
soap wrapped in white paper- granddaddy’s cologne

She weaves back together, like thread on a loom,
narrow steps to cassettes in a radio room,
and keeps singing a while as I swing down the aisle
on the brown plastic seats in the raw heat of June

Oh my memory bird, how she’ll whisper and sway
and bring it back to me as near as today.
I am lost in reliving all the life she is giving,
but I reach out to hold her, and she fast flies away

Oh she calls back to life all the sandpaper air,
gasoline in a can, and fresh sweat tangled hair.
Now the suns in the breeze, now it cools through the trees,
on the back of a Goldwing, with a laugh and a prayer

My memory bird gets to wailing so wild.
If I was digging for diamonds well I’m finding a child.
Barefoot and braver, I wish I could save her.
She moves me an inch but I’m missing a mile

Oh my memory bird, how she’ll whisper and sway
and bring it back to me as near as today.
I am lost in reliving all the life she is giving,
but I reach out to hold her, and she fast flies away