There's a rock beside the porch steps
when morning sun comes through.
I've been down this afternoon,
found what I already knew.
Still there, still waiting,
like I thought it would be.
Never took it when she left,
never use it to come back to me.
Dust and rust around the edges from seasons passing by.
Spring and summer, fall and winter,
asking questions, wondering why.
Still there, still waiting,
underneath that stone.
She could walk right through my door,
but she's chosen not to come home.
Maybe I should move it,
throw it in the drawer.
But leaving it right where it is,
means I haven't locked the door.
Still there,
still waiting,
like the love I can't let go.
That little piece of silver teaching me what I don't want to know.
There's a rock beside the porch steps,
and a key that won't be used.
Still there, still waiting.
Still there, still waiting.