Quicksand - Heather Woods Broderick

There’s a picture that you made

Hanging where it’s cold and raining

If I could choose a tool, a spade

Quicksand, a house, dirty floor, no maid

It’s been a few years

We should have something to say

In memory nothing but a pin did drop

We should have something to save

But your head was buried in the sand

Our feet dug deep in

One at the lake, one at the bay

While in the sun we lay

Memories, like bones, are bleached away

There’s a picture that you made

Hanging where it’s cold and raining

If I could choose a tool, a spade

Quicksand, a house, dirty floor, no maid

Looked up toward the caves

I saw a gull, it stayed

With broken wings

Fevered and dreaming of flying away

I thought about you, your false pride, of love and shame…

There’s a picture that you made

Hanging where it’s cold and raining

If I could choose a tool, a spade

Quicksand, a house, dirty floor, no maid