Standing here you could almost touch the sea The salt wind rakes the waves in
front of me The flower beds Covered now With grass
instead
Behind the door junk mail piles up in the hall Lace curtains
catch the breeze and rise and fall And everywhere The smell of
damp Fills the air
And me I'm the turning of the leaves Convictions
mellowed by the sun Fires lit when I was young All put out one by
one But how the scent of youth stays with me Waits for me in every corner
of this room How the fading light betrays Those summer days That soon
gave way to these The turning of the leaves
All around everything is lined with dust Frozen faces fade in
photographs A love's remains Trapped by time In silver
frames
And me I'm the turning of the leaves More October than
July More passed than passer by More lost beneath the sky But how the
scent of you stays with me Waits for me in every corner of this room How
the fading light betrays Those summer days That soon gave way to
these The turning of the leaves