In a small sack weaved with dreams,
I kept our songs,Which sung about you and I
And all we had.
Then the words,
The long and the short ones,
Those rose with the sun,
And slept with the moon.
I kept the best souvenirs,
One of your smiles,
And the warmth of your hand.
Lastly, I kept our love,
tied up the sack tight,
and buried it.
Then to mark the place,
I ripped my heart,
And placed above it.
