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Remembering Rain

from the beautiful wreckage by Tim O'Connor

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lyrics

Remembering Rain

She lived in a house on a hill in the city,
She was inclined to be,
Somewhat reclusive,
Yet still those who new her spoke generously,
On Tuesday she'd walk up without fuss,
To settle bills,
Each time seemed to be,
Breaking for cover as retuning with groceries,
She'd hide in routine.

Within her home it is surprisingly airy,
All things have their place,
It is ordered and simple: mementos are hidden,
They were once displayed,
Celebrations of instants of reasons to smile,
Foundations of faith,
Put away now in shadows as deep as the sea was,
When the storm front came,
And took tomorrow away.

And the rain ran in rivers of Olympian laughter,
Past the three steps leading up from the street,
I where the paint on the door,
Was all flaking and faded,
And numbers hung loose as ripe fruit,
Now the heat, oh, the heat of endless summer,
Bathes her face in sepia haze,
As she turns away,
Remembering rain.

And if you knocked once or twice,
You'd be sure she would answer,
And invite you inside,
She'd offer you tea in small cups of bone china,
Which were unusually fine,
And trade stories and histories of memorial reverence,
She listens in kind,
To kindle a hunger with diffident questions,
Repeatedly time after time.

Of when the rain ran in rivers of Olympian laughter,
Past the three steps leading up from the street,
I where the paint on the door,
Was all flaking and faded,
And numbers hung loose as ripe fruit,
Now the heat, oh, the heat of endless summer,
Bathes her face in sepia haze,
As she turns away,
Remembering rain.

Leaning out of her window with precarious ease,
She looks down on the bay,
Each morning at twelve o'clock sharp, she appears,
As though something may change,
Maybe moved by the moon and celestial trance,
As she watches the waves,
Or perhaps more mundane is her reason for waiting,
Remembering that day,
She silently prays.

The rain ran in rivers of Olympian laughter,
Past the three steps leading up from the street,
I where the paint on the door,
Was all flaking and faded,
And numbers hung loose as ripe fruit,
Now the heat, oh, the heat of endless summer,
Bathes her face in sepia haze,
As she turns away,
Remembering rain,
Remembering rain.

credits

from the beautiful wreckage, released February 1, 2018

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about

Tim O'Connor image

Tim O'Connor Hull, UK

Tim O'Connor is an English Folk/Rock songwriter based in Yorkshire, UK, Performing & recording since the late Seventies, Tim has released a large catalogue of albums, 39 to date, available on his record label, Uilleand Music.

Band Projects:

cowfisH, from 1992 onwards.

The Ant Farm Collective, from 2014-2017.

Tim O’Connor & the Poachers 2018- ... more

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