(Copyright Kristen Grainger, Dan Wetzel, 2025)

Small boy running, small boys run, never walk
Small boy climbing, a steady stream of small boy talk
A cosmonaut among the rings of Saturn
A cowboy chasing mustangs through the sage
A thousand worlds awaited in his old tree
A pirate ship, a battlefield, a stage

Treasure Island, a stolen box of Crackerjack
On the high branch, the tree trunk warm against his back
He hears the robins calling down the evening
He feels the sturdy boughs beneath his hands
He wants this summer day to last forever
Engraving his initials like a brand

Chorus
All the scars and broken places
Missing limbs and roots worn through
None of that could ever touch the beauty
Of my memory of you

Tall man humming, as he tightens up the strings
Tall man strumming, so his new guitar can sing
A song of robins calling down the evening
A song of sturdy boughs beneath his hands
A song so his old tree can live forever
Engraved with his initials like a brand

Chorus
All the scars and broken places
Missing limbs and roots worn through
None of that could ever touch the beauty
Of my memory of you

BridgeOh the world it breaks us all|
One by one we’re gonna fall
Oh but some of us, after this world breaks us
We grow strong at the broken places

None of that could ever touch the beauty
Of my memory
Of my memory