I caught your profile in a frame
A weathered face without a name
You sit inside a wooden chair
With silver wires for thinning hair
You are the salt in the wood
Standing where the anchor stood
Watching the thunder roll in fast
Holding onto a heavy past
Your knuckles look like driftwood knots
You stare at all the empty plots
The porch is peeling paint of white
You wait for the electric light
You are the salt in the wood
Standing where the anchor stood
Watching the thunder roll in fast
Holding onto a heavy past
The rain is hitting the tin roof
Of a life that is living proof
Your gold tooth glints in the grey glare
A quiet ghost in a rocking chair
You are the salt in the wood
Standing where the anchor stood
Watching the thunder roll in fast
Holding onto a heavy past
I clicked the shutter on your hand
A map of a far away land
You didn't move when the sky broke
Or even stir when the thunder spoke
Blue ink stains on a yellow page
A bird inside a rusted cage
The wind is pulling at your coat
A lonely man, a wooden boat
I pack my lens and I walk slow
The clouds are starting now to glow
You gave a nod as I turned away
To find the end of a rainy day
You are the salt in the wood
Standing where the anchor stood
Watching the thunder roll in fast
Holding onto a heavy past
Just one more shot of the rain.
Salt in the wood.
(Click, flash)
