Madrona
Izaak Opatz
I waltzed for kindling, but her skinny dry stems
They burned up in a hot flash of embers and wind
I set you aside, my first kiss on the lips
Madrona, I swore I could forget
My guts kept saying your name
We laid on our backs, our hats nearly touching
At Indian Camp, under the stars
Even I know a good thing when she lays down beside me
What I didn't know then was how to get started
My guts keep calling your name
Madrona, you gave me too many chances
Of course, I wouldn't see it that way
Till you slipped away quiet, a skiff in a tempest
You dropped your rope and hid behind a wave
My guts kept saying your name
My guts kept calling your name
One day, I hope I'll see your sail again
Or find your wobbly kid-sister scrawl in the mail again
I won't be so roundabout, I'll make you stay
My guts will finally have nothing left to say
Nothing left to say