There's a cross above the baby's bed, a savior in her dreams. But she was not delivered then, and the baby became me. There's a light inside a darkened room, a footstep on the stair. A door that I forever close to leave those memories there. So when the shadows lengthen into an evening sun, first there's summer, then I'll let you in, September, when it calls. I plan to crawl outside these walls, close my eyes and see, and fall into the heart and arms of those who wait for me. I cannot move a mountain now, I can no longer run. I cannot be who I was then, in a way I never was. I watch the clouds go sailing, I watch the clock and the sun. Oh, I watch myself depending on September, when it calls. When the shadows lengthen and burn away the past, they will fly me like an angel to a place where I can rest. When this begins, I'll let you in, September, when it calls.