A Song For My Wife

I watched the dawn stumble in like a drunk on the lawn

Spilling gold on the dishes you forgot to wash

You were sleeping, I was thinking—same as always

About time and how it ruins everything it saves

There’s a note on the fridge, says “Buy more light bulbs”

But I don’t mind the dark if your hand’s in mine

We’ve been broke, we’ve been blessed, we’ve been somewhere in between

But your laugh makes the silence feel clean

And this is a song for my wife

For the way that you anchor my runaway mind

You hold me like a secret, loud and true

God knows I’d be lost if I hadn’t found you

Remember that trip to the mountains in late July?

We got sunburnt and argued, then made up under stars

You cried when the motel played “Harvest Moon”

I cried too, but I blamed it on the room

And your hair was wet and wild like a warning

You said, “Promise you won’t ever leave me bored.”

I said, “I’ll stay ‘til the clocks all forget how to tick,”

Then I kissed you like I meant it—and I did

So here’s a song for my wife

For the midnight oil and the morning light

You’re the prayer I never knew how to write

But somehow I’ve been reading you all my life

There are ghosts in the mirror and bills on the floor

And time’s just a thief dressed like something we swore

But I’d wager my name, my breath, and my spine

That I’d still choose you if we had to rewind

Yeah, this is a song for my wife

For your broken hallelujahs and unshaken fight

You’re the verse that redeems my every wrong line

And I’m better, I’m braver, just ‘cause you’re mine

The world is a static-laced, flickering screen

But loving you’s the only thing that ever felt clean