Whon

the garbage man is never going to come
the cans out at the curb will bloat and stink
the rock will work its way through cracks in the the foundation
the water will grow stagnant in the sink
and you, you will know
where it is that memories go
the migratory birds will not come back
the charms that summer held will all turn sour
and from the treetops when the wind stops
sweet blossoms will rain down and you will spin beneath the shower
and it will be so clear
you will never quite escape last year
the wind will blow or else it won't
sometimes you just move on and sometimes you just don't
you think the matter through, you try hard not to think
the water all goes stagnant in the kitchen sink
and you will know
and i will too
what it was i might have left to you