Desire

She's got a house in the Second Empire style

On a street of shade, about a quarter mile

From where we met down in New Orleans

Sits on her porch swing every morning

As the blue bird sings about the dawning

And the memory of us walking away

Now, you used to say that life was sweet

Despite the miles and feeling incomplete

I made it back to your door

Here we are like misplaced bookends

With the years and pages in between and

The time it takes to get here from there